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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29937609">B for Beck</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Assbitch67/pseuds/Assbitch67'>Assbitch67</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Criminal Minds (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aaron Hotchner is an asshole but not really, Aaron Hotchner is the BAU Dad, Angst, BAMF Original Female Character, Blood and Violence, David Rossi is the BAU Mom, Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid are Siblings, Derek Morgan is also a Little Shit, Erin Strauss sucks, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Garcia is the best, Mental Instability, Minor Jennifer "JJ" Jareau/Emily Prentiss, Original Characters - Freeform, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Slow Burn, Spencer Reid is a Little Shit, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, This is a Penelope Garcia Appreciation Account, This is not a Safe Space for Unsubs, and when i say slow burn... i mean slowwww burn, like...lots of it, oxymorons apparently</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:07:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>92,486</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29937609</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Assbitch67/pseuds/Assbitch67</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Beck has had her life planned for her whether she liked it or not... But for some reason it all just keeps going to shit. Maybe it has something to do with her ability to kill a full grown man with a paperclip and snipe a grape inside a shot glass from nearly 6 miles away. But, hey, the cute Doctor at the BAU that doesn't know how to carry his Revolver seems to tolerate her.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Spencer Reid &amp; Original Character(s), Spencer Reid &amp; Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Beginnings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Beginnings </h1><h3> <em>"The ending is nearer than you think, and it is already written. All that we have left to choose is the correct moment to begin." – Alan Moore, V for Vendetta.</em>
</h3><p>Darkness.</p><p>That's all there was from the moment the child started to run.</p><p>No, not run. Sprint.</p><p>The young adolescent was sprinting through the vast darkness, enveloped by a thick brush of wet leaves, dangling vines, and large tree trunks in the tropical forest. Their bare feet hitting the forest floor, crunching on leaves and jumping over branches, made little noise as it was covered by the sounds of rain pouring down and thunder cracking in the dark sky above.</p><p>Every so often, a flash of lightning would light the way, but other than that all they could see was what was directly in front of them as they dashed. And all that lay ahead was even more jungle and brush. But that couldn't stop them. They didn't come this far just to stop now. So the young one kept running, and running.</p><p>They jumped over a tree root sticking out in the mud, slid beneath a mossy trunk, swat away large wet leaves, and slashed their way out of thick vines. The child felt her breath shortening and her body slowly starting to slow down as the adrenaline from their initial escape began to wear off.</p><p>The child's feet were sore and wet from blood, sweat, rain, and mud. Their hair was the same. The child's arms had small cuts from running through countless bushes and branches and their eyes were already becoming strained in the dark.</p><p>After a few more minutes of running, the child's strength was wearing thin when their ankle was caught on a tree root sticking out of the mud.</p><p>"Wagh!" The young one shouted as they fell face-first into the mud and brush on the grund. Their skin pricking against a fallen vine full of thorns. "Mm." The child moaned slightly as they attempted to push themselves back up onto their feet. But... it was too much.</p><p>Their body was sore, they were out of energy, it was dark and the couldn't see hardly anything as the rain continued to pound down from up above.</p><p>The darkness the child had began running towards was slowly starting to become suffocation as they lay on the jungle floor trying to catch their breath, allowing the dark to encase and envelop them. Their eyelids growing heavy as they blinked once, twice, then closed them, embracing the dark once and for all.</p><p>–</p><p>Jason Gideon had never seen such a small kid before.</p><p>When he'd first found the little one lying in a pile of wet leaves a few clicks out from the base he and his team were occupying, he thought that the kid had been dead. Left behind by the guerilla military group they'd been sent to Asia to take down to begin with.</p><p>The group of notorious in SouthEast Asia for kidnapping children and using them as child soldiers to do their bidding and when Gideon and his team had been sent to eliminate the group's adult members and spare the children. Unfortunately, it hadn't worked out the way they planned and the child soldiers ended up trying to fight against Gideon and his team resulting in a mass slaughter. But apparently, one had ran away during the bloodbath.</p><p>The kid was a girl.</p><p>Though, it was hard to tell through the mud, sweat, and dried blood when Gideon and his close friend on the team Bruno Hawks had found her. The doctors, however, confirmed it. Still, she could've passed as a boy with how muscular she was and how short her jet black hair was haphazardly cut into a pixie cut around her pale complexion.</p><p>According to the doctors at the base in South Vietnam, the girl was malnourished, had been abused both physically and sexually (Gideon also inferred mentally as well), and was around the age of seven, they couldn't tell for certain.</p><p>She had bruises scattered across her skin, some fresh and some faded. There were scars littering her body. There were few that looked like knife cuts, jagged cuts from branches perhaps, and scars formed from bullet wounds. There were at least four of those found and even a bullet still left lodged into her side no one had bothered to get out. Apparently, if the doctors hadn't done so when they did, she'd have died from infection within a few weeks.</p><p>This girl must've gone through absolute Hell on Earth. Gideon had never seen anything like it in his time with the military thus far. The bloodbath at the camp was bad, but it was probably a better end for those kids than what they were facing if they'd have stayed. Especially for the girls if they were being beaten and treated the ws this girl had been.</p><p>"She's coming to," Hawks muttered from where they stood in the doorway of the girl's room, quietly watching her sleep on the nearby bed, IV's attached to her small ad, and the beeping of her registered heartbeat on the monitor lulling her out of unconsciousness.</p><p>Gideon and Hawks walked towards the girl, registering her head moving side to side nd her small eyes slowly opening and taking in her surroundings. It must've been a bit to bright than what she was used to because it took sometime for her pupils to adjust.</p><p>Eventually, when the did, her eyes focused on the two male figures at the edge of her bed and her body jolted upright. Her face registered a bit of pain from the abrupt movement, but she pushed through. Gideon took it as a sign as something she'd done countless times before, pushing through pain to stay alert and protect herself.</p><p>Hawks held his hands up in a very unthreatening manner as he tried to help the frighten girl understand that they were not going to hurt her in any way like all the rest of the people in her life had so far. "Hey, there... We're not gonna hurt you." The girl must've registered what he said. A flash of recognition passed through her eyes, but she didn't drop her defenses as she pushed herself as far back against the pillows on her bed as she could go.</p><p>Gideon made the first move to take a seat in the chair in front of her to show through actions that he wasn't a threat to her. Hawks followed in suit. She noticed this and slowly began to relax as she eyed them up and down. She looked absolutely scared to death. Gideon could imagine why.</p><p>An idea struck him and he leaned towards the small table close to the bed, she jerked away at his movements do he moved slower. Carefully, he grabbed the Vietnamese protein bar the nurses had left for her and placed it at the foot of the bed before pushing it towards her slightly. "Eat," he suggested.</p><p>She glanced between him and the bar before quickly snatching it up in a flash of quick motion. She was fast. Must've been how she'd gotten miles from the camp.</p><p>The girl had her eyes glued to both Gideon and Hawks as she tore open the bar with her broken and dirty nails. Once she had it open, she quickly began to scarf it down. Biting, chewing, and swallowing as if she were starving. She probably was. It was probable that this was her first real item of food in a long time judging by the disproportion of muscle and fat she had for such a small kid.</p><p>Gideon watched her visibly relax as she ate and when she finished, he took the opportunity to try and get some answers from her. "What's your name?" He asked her, hoping that if she recognized some Engoish words she could understand his question. She did.</p><p>"...Dai," came her barely above-whisper answer.</p><p>Gideon raised an eyebrow at the girl's response. Dai... That wasn't Vietnamese. "Taiwanese?"</p><p>'Dai' nodded stiffly. "Sword technique," she explained in a broken English accent. "Boy's name."</p><p>Beside him, Hawks nodded. "Your name is Dai? After a Taiwanese sword technique? That's what they named you?" She nodded again.</p><p>"Where are you from?" Gideon prompted her, seeing as she understood English well for a girl from Taiwan it seemed.</p><p>She shook her head. "'M not sure," she replied. "They do not tell us..." At the mention of 'they', she stiffened again. Her eyes traveling around the room, specifically towards the door, as if anticipating for 'them'– or her captors– to come and burst through to drag her back to that hellhole in the jungle.</p><p>"Well, you don't got to worry about them anymore, kiddo," Hawks assured the young girl, a smile plastered onto his face as he tried to help her feel safe again. "They're gone. They can't hurt you anymore." She visibly relaxed once more, her eyes conveying gratitude at his words. Not being hurt anymore must've been a new concept for her. One she was glad, but cautious, to accept.</p><p>"Do you know where your parents are?" Gideon continued to question her. "Who... they took you from?"</p><p>Tears began to form in the girl's eyes at the mention of her parents. Her bottom lip quivered, but a son never broke from her mouth as she stifled down her need to cry. She shook her head. "No."</p><p>Gideon wanted to reach out to the girl, hold her hand and reassure her that it was gonna be alright. That what she went through at that camp in the jungle was in the past and he was gonna get her back to her family no matter how long it took. But her body language seemed to suggest that the last thing she wanted was to be touched by anyone.</p><p>"Hawks. Gideon."</p><p>Both soldiers turned their attention towards the doorway of the room to find a fellow team member standing in wait for them.</p><p>"The Captain said we're moving out soon. We're due back East for our next assignment," the solider explained. His eyes traveled to the little girl I'm the corner of the bed as he added, "He said we can take the girl back to the States and see if maybe some Intelligence Agency can track down her family."</p><p>"Thanks, Maxwell," Hawks called back to him. "Tell him we'll be done here soon." The soldier nodded before disappearing back down the hallway.</p><p>Hawks and Gideon turned back to the little girl who was now seared in the center of her bed, crossed legs messing with the IV needle in her arm.</p><p>"Hey, kid." Dai looked up at Hawks calling for her. "Don't you worry, alright? We're gonna find you a family to take care of you while we look for your mommy and daddy, okay?"</p><p>Fear registered with his words as the girl sat up straight, her eyes wide and bloodshot as she cried out, "No!" Hawks and Gideon blinked in surprise at her fearful reaction to being told that they were going to give her a home while searching for her parents. Was that not what she wanted?</p><p>Apparently not.</p><p>"I want stay with you!" She exclaimed.</p><p>"We'll be there with you when we get you your new family," Hawks explained. "No one is gonna hurt you again-"</p><p>"No!" She shouted once more, more defiantly this time. "I stay with you!"</p><p>Gideon and Hawks exchanged uneasy glances before turning back to her. "You can't stay with us, Dai," Gideon stated in a soft, yet firm tone. "We're soldiers. Little girls can't do what we do."</p><p>"But I can!" She exclaimed. "I shoot- I-I hunt- I kill, like you! I can do it. I stay with you!" She shouted insistently, almost as if she were begging.</p><p>Gideon opened his mouth to further explain why she couldn't stay with them when Hawks surprised him with a very different response. "Alright, kid," he allowed. "But first we gotta do something about that name of yours."</p><p>The girl stared at Hawks with wide eyes filled with both gratitude and a bit of surprise. Gideon stared at him as well, but in complete shock. What the hell was Hawks thinking encouraging her? She'd just come out of a war zone and now he was commending a child to go back in one?</p><p>One of the nurses chose that time to walk in to check little Dai's vitals. Gideon vaguely heard Hawks explain to the Vietnamese nurse that the girl was gonna need discharge forms to head back to the States with them. When Dai's full attention was eventuallg turned to the nurse (maybe the first woman she'd come into contact with since being taken) Gideon took the time to pull Hawks aside.</p><p>"Hawks– a word," Gideon grumbled as he stood from his seat and started walking towards the door, Hawks on his tail. When they made it to the hallway, he turned on him with a fierce expression of anger and frustration. "What the hell are you doing, Bruno? She's a kid fresh out of a guerilla warfare camp. You can't just go encouraging her behavior."</p><p>"I'm not encouraging her behavior. I'm giving her what she wants," Hawks defended himself. "If the girl says she wants to be a soldier like us, who am I to say 'no'? Who knows, maybe after a few years of schooling and a bit of some proper training, she'll be the next Bruno Hawks." Gideon watched with disdain as Hawks smiled appraisingly to the little frail girl on the hospital bed inside the room getting her IV checked in her minuscule arm.</p><p>"She's a kid who's been abused for most of her life. The last thing she needs is more nightmares," Gideon insisted. "I'm talking to the Captain about letting her stay here to find her family-" Gideon made a move to walk aaa down the hall when he felt Hawk's hand grab his arm, holding him in his place.</p><p>Hawks leaned forward to talk with him. "Look, man, you heard her in there. All this girl knows is death, war, and fighting. She's never gonna be a normal kid after everything she's seen. Who are we to try and force her to be something she's not?"</p><p>Gideon was speechless at his friend's words. Hawks, in turn, took it as an agreement. He promptly let go of Gideon's arm and turned to walk back to the girl.</p><p>"Alright, kiddo, you ever heard of the band called ACDC?"</p><p>Gideon could've gagged at Hawk's logic for what he wanted to happen with this kid. But he knew deep down it was out of his hands. He would later go to the Captain of his team and ask him to allow Dai to stay in Asia and be cared for by an Asian family while Asian officials searched for her family. And he'd later be pushed aside when Hawks brought forward his own case arguing that the young child soldier would be useful should she be brought back to the US and be given the proper training and 'family' in the States. The Captain would ultimately side with Hawks and a few months later Gideon would request his honorable discharge from the Army.</p><p>Jason Gideon, now proud profiler with the Behavioral  Analysis Unit had a lot of issues with his past. But one thing he would live to regret nearly sixteen years later was not helping that little girl he found half-dead in the jungle of Vietnam find her true family...</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Betrayal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>Betrayal</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>•••</p>
<p>
  <em>"To me, the thing that is worse than death is betrayal. You see, I could conceive death, but I could not conceive betrayal." – Malcolm X</em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>SIXTEEN YEARS LATER</p>
<p>–</p>
<p><em>"Hey there, all you middle men," </em>the iconic and familiar scratchy vocals of Brian Johnson greeted the morning through a pair of earphones underneath a matte black helmet. The woman wearing it smiled to herself as she kicked the kickstand from beneath her bike and turned the throttle of her baby, letting her booted heel rest on the side as she sped down the familiar streets of D.C. heading towards Virginia.</p>
<p>The loud growling of the bike didn't drown out the sounds of <em>Rock And Roll Ain't Noise Pollution </em>or the deafening wind blowing past her ears over the helmet as she breezed through her morning route.</p>
<p>It was only a half an hour commute to get from her small apartment in the District to the GBC in Langley, so of course she was always about fifteen minutes late to work.</p>
<p>She pulled into her special spot a few yards away from the entrance on her precious Suzuki GSX. She kicked the stand back down and pulled out the keys, making sure to pocket them in her jacket pocket as she unzipped it and threw her leg back over to stand fully on the asphalt. She pulled off her helmet before climbing off the bike and making her way towards the front door.</p>
<p>With her music still blasting and the light tapping of her Converse tennis shoes on the tile floor of the George Bush Center for Intelligence, the woman pulled out her credentials and her badge to scan at the security check point where a handful of armed guards stood waiting.</p>
<p>"'Morning, Agent," one of the guards (Trudeau, she presumed his name was) greeted her, a flirtatious smile on his lips. This was his sixth week on the job and he still failed to catch the hint that she didn't date where she worked, just like she didn't eat where she shit. Go figure, he also had no clue what her name was either.</p>
<p>All the 'Agent' could do was return the smile reluctantly as she dropped her keys, helmet, phone, wallet, government-issued gun, and personal knives onto the table beside the metal detector. She tore her earphones out of her ears momentarily as she walked through, quickly picking them back up before she could miss one of the best parts of the song.</p>
<p>"Here ya go," Trudeau held up her badge for her, pausing momentarily to read the name on it. "Special Agent Rebecca Ryder. Counterterrorism, huh?"</p>
<p>Agent Ryder smiled at the guard as she pocketed the rest of her belongings, snatching up the badge from his hands and pocketing that as well. "You sound surprised," she replied cheekily. Of course he was surprised. From the mere look of Agent Rebecca Ryder, one might think she was some secretary. It sucked being a stereotypical short Asian woman; her height of 5'1" was her villain origin story if she ever was one.</p>
<p>The guard shrugged. "I'm not," he quickly tried to redeem himself. "You take down lots of those terrorists out in the Middle East?"</p>
<p>Agent Ryder scoffed. "Lemme let you in on a secret the CIA's been keeping for quite some time," she leaned forward ever so slightly and whispered, "There's more here than there are out in the desert." The guard looked a little off put by her words, but she only winked as she walked off, continuing her trek down the hall towards her office.</p>
<p>After the short elevator ride up, she made it to the main hallway and stopped just outside the general office at the vending machine. It was a morning ritual of sorts for her, always stopping here for her breakfast. Most normal people at Langley usually just grabbed a coffee and bagel from the break room, but for Agent Ryder, coffee was too bitter and bagels were too bland.</p>
<p>The agent pulled out a five dollar bill from her wallet and slid it through the money slot. Once it was accepted, she pressed a few buttons and waited on her two snacks to pop out the bottom. She got the same every morning: a fruit punch Snapple and a bag of gummy bears.</p>
<p>With her helmet, badge, and breakfast in tow, the agent waltzed into the bustling office of the CIA's Counterterrorism Unit. She liked to call it the 'Pit' because of the way it was shaped. Up above was a large walkway circling around the small office cubicles and a center walkway in the middle. There were office and conference rooms on the top for her superiors and the cubicles for her coworkers and herself. Her cubicle was located closer to the entrance right beside the main office. She had the privilege to choose it to remain closer to her boss.</p>
<p>Her boss, as luck might've had it, was none other than Bruno Hawks. The same man that had rescued her from that jungle in Vietnam.</p>
<p>Later that day sixteen years ago, Hawks had talked his superiors into allowing little Dai to stay in the US so she could put her skills to good use (as he'd put it). And they did.</p>
<p>The Army got into contact with the CIA that had helped orchestrate the operation that they had helped take down. The Agency ended up setting up the little Asian girl with a new life and a new name. A few days after her rescue, Dai was then known as Rebecca Ryder. Or Beck, for short.</p>
<p>Hawks was with her every step of the way after getting discharged from the Army and joining forces with the CIA. He was there when they assigned Beck a foster family to continue her training and schooling. He was there when the Agency was choosing which professors would best suit her academic needs. And he was there for her when she turned eighteen and was finally able to be recruited by the CIA where Hawks offered her a job on the spot as field agent for his unit. Now, here she was.</p>
<p>And speaking of the devil, Beck spotted Hawks in his usual tailored suit speaking with someone unknown wearing a casual get-up of jeans and a button-up shirt near the top of the main catwalk standing in front of the Hub, which was the large array of screens that played different pieces of footage from different cases they were all working individually.</p>
<p>As Beck grew closer to her desk, her eyes still focused on the two men, she felt a close presence as she set down her belongings onto her small desk.</p>
<p>"Psych eval," her coworker, Olivia Hopkins, muttered in explanation beside her. Beck glanced at her sidelong from over her shoulder to see she was looking far off where Hawks was talking with the odd man dressed in jeans. Well, technically, she couldn't judge either considering she was dressed in jeans as well, but at least hers weren't faded, blue, and baggy.</p>
<p>Beck popped open her Snapple as she pushed her helmet under her desk with her boot. "Who requested that?" She asked Olivia.</p>
<p>Beside her, Olivia shrugged. "Not a clue. Hawks," she suggested. "Maybe it's got something to do with Saudi."</p>
<p>Beck inwardly groaned. God, she hated that place. Her and a few of her teammates had just gotten back a month ago from Saudi after being in deep cover for almost three months. It was a simple fake death and extraction for some CIA informant one of her coworkers was in charge of though, so she doubted the psych eval was because of that. But, either way, Beck just shrugged. "Maybe," she replied before taking a swig of her Snapple.</p>
<p>"You still drink that crap, Ryder? What are you, four?" Another one of her coworkers, Kruger Spence, scoffed as he walked past the pair of ladies, a cup of coffee in his hand.</p>
<p>Beck scoffed. "Yep, four inches deep with my foot up your ass if you don't watch it," she shot back, Olivia nearly choking on her own coffee beside her. Spence clamped his mouth shut the rest of his walk to his cubicle and Beck grinned in victory. "God, he's a prick. As if a month in Riyadh with him wasn't enough, we come back and still have to put up with him."</p>
<p>Olivia gave her a noncommittal hum as she seemed to hyper focus on the coffee in her cup. Beck took notice but figured it must've just been the nerves from the possibility of a psych eval. Her and Olivia had grown somewhat close since Beck had started. It was an odd sort of relationship Bec would loosely describe as a friendship and more of a 'reluctantly drawn to you because you're young and I feel bad' kind of thing.</p>
<p>It was a known fact amongst the other 22 people in the CT Unit that Beck was the youngest person there, in both the unit and the agency. At first, most of them discredited her due to just how young she was and because of the suspected favoritism between her and Hawks. But over time and after more field missions, it became clear to the unit that desire her age, Rebecca Ryder wasn't someone to be dismissed so easily and she came to prove herself indespensible to the team.</p>
<p>Still, it was hard for her being only 23 in an agency full of full grown adults in their thirties, forties, and fifties. The closest person in age to her was Gina Sanchez who absolutely hated her guts for some unknown reason.</p>
<p>Olivia, however, was somehow drawn to Beck. Beck figured it was just because she was a mother and somehow felt the need to be maternal with her. It was weird, but they kept their boundaries.</p>
<p>Beck took her focus off of Olivia and turned it towards the cap on her Snapple bottle like she did every morning. "Hm. Mosquitoes are attracted to people who have just eaten bananas," she read off the cap.</p>
<p>Olivia gave her coworker an odd look. Beck shrugged. It seemed only she found these little facts to be interesting in this unit. It seemed a lot of the agents in the unit couldn't care less about the little things.</p>
<p>"Can I have your attention please?" Hawks called up from the top of the catwalk. Both Olivia and Beck, as well as the other agents in the Pit, turned their attention to their director as he spoke. "Today we'll be holding one of our psych evals conducted by Agent Gideon of the Behavioral Analysis Unit at Quantico." Hawks gestured to the man in jeans beside him who, from the looks of it, seemed closer to age with Hawks. He also looked oddly familiar to Beck... where did she know him from?</p>
<p>"I'll be calling you in one at a time," Agent Gideon announced. "Starting with..." he took a glance down at the file he held in his hand. "Supervisory Special Agent Olivia Hopkins." His eyes glanced up and quickly landed on the woman beside Beck.</p>
<p>Beck and Olivia shared a knowing glance. "Wish me luck," Olivia muttered bitterly, pausing momentarily to throw her empty coffee cup into the trash can at her feet and making her way towards the catwalk where Gideon and Hawks stood. Beck watched as Agent Gideon led Olivia into the small interrogation room at the top of the Pit.</p>
<p>Beck swallowed hard at the sight of her coworker being taken into the room. The thought of getting her mind picked apart by some stranger made her skin crawl. It wasn't like she had much to hide, but what if the questions about her past came up? Hawks had to have given Agent Gideon files on all of them and surely he looked into how odd hers must've looked.</p>
<p>The thought stuck with her the rest of the day as she continued on with her work. It was somewhat boring. She was assigned with filing her reports and sorting through her logs she kept while in Saudi to be processed and filed away later. Still, even as she did something as moot as filing reports, she found herself so caught up in thinking about the types of questions the psych evalutaion would entail for her. Or maybe she was just blowing it out of proportion.</p>
<p>That was the conclusion she came to during her lunch when she made her way into the break room and noticed she wasn't the only one who seemed to be unnerved by everything.</p>
<p>Standing near the coffee maker, stirring in what looked to be lots of cream with a shaking hand, was another one of her fellow field agents, John Summers. He had been the one in charge of the operation in Saudi. He was a bit of a harass when it came to work, but when the work was finished most of the time, Beck always noticed this lost look in his eyes as if he wasn't sure what to do next. It was like, without a mission or a cause he was completely helpless. It would explain why he busted his ass with every single case that came sliding across his desk. He worked so hard, Beck couldn't remember a day he had a vacation in all of her five years of being with the Unit.</p>
<p>Summers hadn't seemed to notice he was no longer alone in the break room when she walked up beside him and made a grab for one of small sandwiches on the table. His eyes jumped up when he noticed her movements. "Hey," his raspy voice greeted her.</p>
<p>Beck glanced up at him through her bangs that hung over her face. "Hey," she replied. It was always weird talking with Summers. He was always just work, work, work, work. It was like he didn't know how to talk about anything but work. It also made him a bit hard to approach in normal situations, like casual small talk in the break room. "You ready for this psych eval?"</p>
<p>Summers seemed to stiffen at the question. His shoulders squaring as he turned back to the coffee in front of him. "I guess. I mean, it's not like I've got anything to hide," he replied in an almost suggestive voice.</p>
<p>Beck wrote it off as just one of his odd characteristics. "Not a lot of people do. But, still, I doubt it's fun having your psyche picked apart by some stranger," she figured as she took a bite of her sandwich.</p>
<p>Summers shrugged as he walked over to the table where she was and took a seat across from her. "Agent Gideon isn't much of a stranger to me. I've known him for some time. Call him an acquaintance of sorts."</p>
<p>"Must be nice to have some form of relationship with the guy about to pick your brain," she joked.</p>
<p>Summers shrugged nonchalantly. "I suppose." His head bowed as he continued to stir his coffee. Beck found the action odd. He'd been stirring that coffee for some time now but had yet to actually drink it. It was a clear sign he was nervous about something and if it wasn't the psych evaluation then it had to be something.</p>
<p>Beck took the chance she had to ask. "Everything alright?" she prompted. "You seem a little... off."</p>
<p>Summers glanced up at her, his eyes hard and his expression soft as he seemed to consider her for a moment. Beck tilted her head slightly in an unspoken question as to what he was looking for when surveying her. He didn't answer as he bent his head back down to his coffee. "You were right," he eventually responded to her first inquiry. "I am a little nervous about the evaluation." That was bull.</p>
<p>Just then, the break room door opened. Beck didn't bother to turn around to know who it was. "Summers," Hawks spoke from the doorway. "You're up."</p>
<p>Beck watched Summers intently as he nodded up at Hawks from over her shoulder. He stood up from the table, leaving behind his well-stirred coffee and cream as he started towards the door.</p>
<p>"Good luck," Beck dumbly spoke as he passed.</p>
<p>"Hopefully, I won't need it," she heard him mutter in response as he walked away.</p>
<p>Hawks, however, remained in the doorway and decided to walk in after Summers was gone. He must've noticed her reluctance to finish her sandwich when he sat down in the seat beside her. He didn't notice Summers' coffee. "Nervous?" He asked her.</p>
<p>"Nope," she replied, her arm reaching out across the table to grab ahold of the coffee cup Summers had left behind. It felt like a waste to just throw it awa nd something told her he wasn't planning on coming back to drink it himself. She took a quick swig and repressed the urge to gag. "Why would I be?"</p>
<p>Of course, Hawks saw right through her facade. He always did. "You hate coffee," he stated the obvious.</p>
<p>Beck shrugged as she took another drink and repressed yet another gag. "I didn't get a lot of sleep last night," she gave him a lame lie.</p>
<p>Hawks let out a heavy sigh. "Beck," he started, his voice soft yet firm as he spoke. "If this is about Vietnam, you don't have to worry. Gideon already knows."</p>
<p>Beck nearly choked on her third sip of coffee and didn't bother to hide her gag after she swallowed. Her wide eyes found his as she set down the cup and cleared her throat. "You told him?"</p>
<p>"I didn't need to," he replied nonchalantly. When Beck furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, Hawks tilted his head back ever so slightly. "Wait, do you not remember Gideon?"</p>
<p>"He looks oddly familiar. You mind explaining that?" She shot back.</p>
<p>Hawks let a small laugh escape his lips as he smiled. "Becca, Gideon was the one that found you all those years ago. How could you not remember that?"</p>
<p>Beck blinked once, then twice. She was a little bit shocked. Now that she thought about it, she did recognize those forehead creases. Jason Gideon. The same man that had carried her out of the thick jungle brush and gave her that granola bar in the hospital. God, it was such a long time ago she was surprised she even remembered. "Gideon. That's... that's him?"</p>
<p>Hawks nodded. "I'm shocked you didn't immediately recognize him. He hasn't changed too much."</p>
<p>Beck rolled her eyes at him. "Forgive me for not remembering a guy I knew for a few days over a decade and a half ago," she retorted bitterly.</p>
<p>"Gosh, has it really been that long? Just yesterday I could've sworn I was explaining to that short little seven year old which Beatle was which," Hawks chuckled to himself. He shook his head after a moment. "God, I'm getting old."</p>
<p>Beck scoffed. "No argument here."</p>
<p>Hawks rolled his eyes. "You're a real smart ass, ya know that, kid?" Beck shrugged innocently and Hawks could only shake his head in response. He couldn't even get mad at her. The girl didn't get to have a real childhood, who was he to give her hell for acting like an overgrown kid now? "Ya know, Sanchez said she overheard you tell Kruger you were gonna shove your foot up his ass this morning."</p>
<p>Beck tried to suppress her amused snort, but it still managed to escape her lips. When she glanced up at Hawks and noticed the look that said 'not funny' she three her hands up defense. "He was being a prick," she gave her vague reasoning. "And of course Sanchez has an issue with it. She has an issue with everything I do. Maybe she didn't like the joke because she can relate to having something stuck up her ass," she grumbled bitterly as she brought the coffee to her lips again.</p>
<p>Hawks rolled his eyes at her antics. "How am I supposed to explain the twenty-three year old in my unit telling her superiors she's gonna shove her foot up their asses?"</p>
<p>"Put it in my psych eval," Beck shrugged.</p>
<p>Hawks snorted. "God, what am I gonna do with you?"</p>
<p>"Not ship me off to the Middle East for another three months, that's what," she quickly exclaimed, Hawks laughing some more at her antics.</p>
<p>Just then, the break room door opened again. Beck and Hawks peered at who had entered as they quickly sobered up. Gina Sanchez stood tall at the door, her eyes on Beck as she stated, "Agent Gideon's ready for your psych evaluation, Ryder."</p>
<p>"I'll be right there in a second," she replied.</p>
<p>"He wants you now," Sanchez pressed her.</p>
<p>"Alright. I'm going," Beck shot back. Sanchez glared at her one last time before stomping off again. Beck turned back around to face Hawks. "Something's up there, I'm telling you." Hawks snorted again, watching his prodigy down the rest of the coffee with a wince before making her way out of the door.</p>
<p>Beck left the break room and tried not to let her nerves get to her as she walked up the catwalk, past the Hub, and towards the interrogation room. As she stepped inside, she caught sight of Agent Gideon sitting at the end of the table, a file set in front of him and his reading glasses at the tip of his nose as he opened over to read it.</p>
<p>"You ready for me, sir?" Beck called to him.</p>
<p>He didn't look up when he answered, "Yes. You can shut the door behind you, Doctor Ryder."</p>
<p>Beck grimaced awkwardly, shutting the door behind her before slowly making her way towards the table. She took a seat across from him and patiently wasted for him to finish reading what she assumed was her file. After all, he did call her 'Doctor'. No one called her 'Doctor', not even Hawks.</p>
<p>After what felt like eons of sitting in awkward silence, Gideon eventually spoke. "You've made quite a name for yourself, Doctor Ryder," he stated, his eyes not leaving the file in front of him. "Last time I saw you, you were getting ready to be processed with the Agency at only seven years old." There it was.</p>
<p>Slowly, Gideon glanced up at her over the edge of his glasses, a smile forming on his lips. "Do you remember who I am?"</p>
<p>Beck returned the smile and nodded. "I do, sir," she replied. "It's good to see you again."</p>
<p>"It's good to see you too, Dai. Although, I've noticed you now go by Rebecca," he exclaimed, his hands gesturing to the file in the table.</p>
<p>"Actually, no one really calls me that, except for my mom when she chews me out," she explained.</p>
<p>"Ah, yes. You were with a foster family in Texas after we left you," he read from off the file. "General Phillip Ryder, his wife Elizabeth, and their three children: Jacob, Alice, and little Max. A normal American family living on Randolph Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas."</p>
<p>Beck nodded. "Yup. Jacob just got married to his wife, Colleen, and Max just turned three," she supplied.</p>
<p>She had grown up with a family, yes, but it wasn't exactly normal. Apparently, she wasn't the first child soldier to have been brought back to the States, so there was a bit of a foster system in place already. All military families of course. And in this case, General Ryder was happy to take in little Beck.</p>
<p>Jacob, her older brother she'd been raised with, was thirteen at the time and wasn't exactly accustomed to dealing with damaged little Asian girls who could barely speak English. Still, he managed to be the best big brother she could ask for. He played with her, babysat her while their parents were at work, and even helped her with her English homework. That was about all the homework he could help her with because while he was learning about the Pythagorean Theorem in 8th grade math, Beck was being taught about the socioeconomic impact of systemic racism in the Western world at the age of twelve.</p>
<p>That was where their childhood differed.</p>
<p>Beck was never a normal kid. From the moment she was placed in that foster home, her mom, dad, and brother had tried to help her feel as normal as possible. But with privatized tutors, teachers, professors, and trainers, preparing her for a life of war, she was far from normal.</p>
<p>"I see here you've got quite a lot of education under your belt despite no prior record of ever attending school, neither privatized or public," Gideon noted on her file.</p>
<p>"I had private tutors from different universities," she explained. "I was told I had photographic memory that allowed me to excel in academics."</p>
<p>"Your file doesn't mention that," Gideon seemed to chastise the paper in front of him with a frown. "Then again, it also doesn't mention your origins."</p>
<p>Beck shrugged. "Hawks made sure to keep it off the records," she stated.</p>
<p>"He's looked out for you, hasn't he?" It wasn't exactly a question for her, more like a query for himself to ponder. "He got you this job here? Gave you this life?"</p>
<p>"I'm grateful for everything he's done for me," she stated firmly.</p>
<p>Gideon pondered her words as he slowly closed the file. "This is what you wanted, right?" He asked as he carefully took of his glasses and glanced over at her, carefully gagging her reactions and answers. "This is the future you wanted for yourself after we rescued you in Vietnam?" This was the psych eval.</p>
<p>"I couldn't imagine myself doing anything else," Beck answered truthfully.</p>
<p>"All you've ever known is death and war," Gideon remarked. "You don't ever want to just be... normal?"</p>
<p>Beck shrugged. "It's normal to me." Gideon sighed heavily at her answer. She wondered if maybe he was disappointed in her answer.</p>
<p>Gideon clasped his hands together in front of him on the table and leaned forward. "So, tell me about your latest field operation."</p>
<p>"It was three months in the hot Saudi desert in deep cover. I was accompanied by three other agents; Supervisory Special Agent Olivia Hopkins, Supervisory Special Agent John Summers, and Assistant Director of Operations Kruger Spence. Director Hawks and Associate Director Sanchez were both on surveillance, monitoring us carefully while there," she explained, her voice monotone as she reported what happened just like she did on paper. Firm and clear.</p>
<p>"What was the purpose of the mission?"</p>
<p>"It was an extraction," she answered. "Agent Summers had been working on the Saudi case for over a year. There have been several organizations in the Middle East that were being funded by a Saudi diplomat, Hassan Nadir. We'd been having trouble cracking down on these organizations due to just how well they were staying off the radar. But, somehow, Summers had managed to turn Nadir's wife against him after finding out she had been... assaulted by him on multiple occasions. She'd become our informant in exchange that we get her and her children out safely from Saudi."</p>
<p>"And that's why you were you there, to help your teammate with his assignment?"</p>
<p>Beck nodded. "But it wasn't just his assignment. It was going to help the unit as a whole getting the information Aaliyah Nadir was willing to give to us. It was all of our mission really and I was glad to help."</p>
<p>"How did you help, Rebecca?"</p>
<p>"Well, my job as a field agent is really just to do as I'm told. I'm not exactly leader material just yet, so I followed my orders."</p>
<p>"Which were?"</p>
<p>"To carefully get Mrs. Nadir and her children to safety by faking their death, which would allow Summers to successfully smuggle them out of the country without anyone noticing."</p>
<p>"Is that a regular thing here?" Gideon prompted. "Faking the death of a family?"</p>
<p>Beck let out a heavy sigh. "Sometimes. Other times, it's eliminating an entire family for the safety of a country."</p>
<p>"Have you done that before, Rebecca?" Gideon asked her. "Have you killed a family?"</p>
<p>Beck paused momentarily before answering, "Yes."</p>
<p>"It can't be easy– killing."</p>
<p>Beck shook her head. "It's not," she told him truthfully. "But... Orders are orders."</p>
<p>"Do you ever feel as though you should be questioning these orders? I mean, how could killing a family really be apart of the greater good of a country?" Gideon prompted her.</p>
<p>The agent took a deep breath. "Orders can be questionable at times, but I trust my superiors to have the best motives and reasoning behind why they have me do what I do. I know that if my team needs me to do something, it's for a purpose."</p>
<p>"Hm," Gideon hummed as he considered her answers. Beck watched as he leaned back again. He grabbed his reading glasses once more and pulled up the file he'd been reading earlier. He had a pen in his hand as he began to write something down. It was a few moments of awkwardly sitting and waiting for his next question to come when he eventually spoke again. "You can go now, Rebecca."</p>
<p>Beck nodded stiffly before standing from her seat and walking out. By the time she was out of the door, she had began to notice her fists were clenched at her sides. When she began to relax them, she felt just how clammy and sweaty they were.</p>
<p>That psych evaluation had been no joke. Suddenly she felt like barfing for no reason whatsoever. It was crazy just how simple as a few deep questions could get to her. But, she did the right thing by answering truthfully, right?</p>
<p>A few hours later, Beck found herself finishing up her last report of the day. Gideon had finished everyone's psych evals and had gone to talk to Hawks in his office for a fee minutes. When he came out eventually, he had nodded towards Beck as he left. She gave him a small back and questioned what he made of her after the evaluation. Did she pass? How does one pass an evaluation?</p>
<p>It wasn't long after Gideon left that Hawks called Sanchez into his office. Beck paid no mind to it and kept at her work, her earphones plugged into her phone and her heel clicking against the ground to the best of Fleetwood Mac. It was nearing the end of <em>The Chain </em>when the loud sound of a door slamming grabbed her attention.</p>
<p>Beck, along with a few other agents, glanced up to see Sanchez storming out of Hawks' office. She was moving with purpose and, boy, did she look pissed as she made her way to her desk, grabbed her belongings and left the Pit. Beck furrowed her eyebrows wondering what the hell that was about. Maybe she didn't pass the psych eval.</p>
<p>"Beck."</p>
<p>Beck turned at the sound of her name being called. She looked up to see Hawks calling for her from the doorway of his office. Shit...</p>
<p>This was it, she thought to herself as she walked over. This was where he told her she had failed her psych eval and was getting reassigned to the Narcotics Unit. God, nothing was more boring than tracking cocaine in Miami. Please, don't let her go tracking cocaine in Miami, she silently begged as she made her way into Hawk's office, flinching when he shut the door behind her.</p>
<p>"Take a seat," he gestured to the chair in front of his desk as he himself sat down across from her. She did as she was asked. "Beck-"</p>
<p>"Please don't send me to Narcotics," she blurted out before he got the chance to finish what he was going to say.</p>
<p>Hawks frowned at her outburst. "What?"</p>
<p>"I don't know what Gideon told you about my evaluation and whether or not I passed, but please, don't reassign me to Narcotics. Anywhere but Narcotics," she pleaded with him.</p>
<p>"What? Becca, I'm not reassigning you," Hawks explained. "I'm promoting you."</p>
<p>Beck blinked in surprise. "You're... what?"</p>
<p>Hawks nodded. "Agent Gideon gave me his evaluation of you and I've decided to promote you to my Associate Director of Operations based on his judgement."</p>
<p>Becky's mouth hung ever do slightly as she processed what he was saying. "Associate... Director of Operations– wait, isn't that Sanchez's position?"</p>
<p>Hawks let out a heavy sigh at her inquisition. "Sanchez's evaluation was less than appealing for someone who's to be in charge of field operations. She's been demoted to strictly Surveillance until further notice. You're to be taking her position."</p>
<p>"I'm... Sir-"</p>
<p>"No need to thank me now, Becca, you've earned it," he told her with a beaming smile. "So, go home, pop open some champagne, and celebrate. You start your new job as Associate Director tomorrow. I expect you here bright and early."</p>
<p>"I-Uh..." she stammered with her words for a moment before swallowing her previous protests and dozens of questions. "Yes, sir." Stiffly, Beck stood from her seat and walked out of the office, shook to her core about her new promotion and what it all entailed. On one hand, she was glad she passed her psych eval, on the other she was completely shell-shocked on this new promotion. She just went from the youngest agent in the agency to the youngest senior officer ever. Was she even ready for this kind of responsibility and leadership?</p>
<p>Beck tried not to let it tear her apart on her way back to her apartment. That night, she went home, took a hot shower, ate some take-out, and tried to get some sleep knowing that in the next few days, things were gonna change.</p>
<p>She just would've never imagined them to change so soon.</p>
<p>Then three days later, she got the call.</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>Beck sped to Langley on her bike. Her earphones discarded in her back pocket. There didn't need to be upbeat music at a time like this.</p>
<p>She pulled into her parking space, jumped off her bike, and sped through security, not bothering to even acknowledge Trudeau today as she snatched back her belongings from him and speed walked to the elevator.</p>
<p>She passed by the vending machine today. It was 3 am and she had no appetite, not tonight.</p>
<p>It was always busy in the Pit when she came to work, but tonight... Tonight it was crazy.</p>
<p>The Counterterrorism Unit was scrambling when Beck walked through the Pit doors. There were agents clicking away on the computers at their cubicles, agents running around searching for paper files, and agents on the phone shouting into receivers for more information.</p>
<p>But through all the chaos, Beck went straight for the main office door up top only to find the office to be empty. She walked over to the edge of the catwalk and called down to Olivia who was behind her computer screen, typing away. "Olivia," she called out. The agent snapped her head up at the sound of her name being called. "Where's Hawks?"</p>
<p>Olivia shook her head. "He got called away."</p>
<p>"Now?!" Beck called out exasperatedly. Of all the times to get called away. It was like everything was going to shit tonight and it all started with a call that woke her up at 2 am telling her that John Summers was dead, Aaliyah Nadir and her children were in the wind, and Hassan Nadir was in the States looking for them which only meant one thing: there was an inside informant working with the terrorist funder.</p>
<p>Beck gripped the railing of the catwalk tightly at the thought of it. A mole within the unit. It could've been anyone. But why? Who would do it? Who would risk everything? What was in it for them?</p>
<p>And, God, Summers. Shit... It was insane to think a man she'd been working with for over five years was suddenly dead. And not just dead, found slaughtered in his own home. Officially, he'd committed suicide. But she knew Hawks had had Sanchez go and clean up the mess that was left after someone had brutally tortured Summers.</p>
<p>Tortured.</p>
<p>Beck was gonna be sick.</p>
<p>"Hey," Beck turned her head to see Spence making his way down the catwalk towards her. "You alright, Ryder?" She could practically see his eagerness to discredit her newly earned authority as Associate Director just because she was getting a bit sick with all of this shit going on, and she wasn't about to let him beat her down. She could handle this. It was her job.</p>
<p>"Just tell me when Hawks is back and stay the hell out of my way," she snapped at him as she walked past. Her fists were clenched and her jaw set as she was determined to find out who the hell was behind all this.</p>
<p>Beck made her way down into the pit towards where her surveillance team was waiting near their Hub. "Califax," she called to one of the agents at her computer. "Pull up the surveillance footage outside of Summers' apartment," she ordered.</p>
<p>"Yes, ma'am," Califax replied as she leaned closer to her computer and projected four different video feeds set up outside of John's apartment. One angle was the parking lot just outside, another was one of the entrance of his apartment complex, one was the street around the corner, and the last one was of the balcony area. It all seemed to be quiet. Minimal movement, nothing suspicious. Which just made her even more suspicious. This was someone skilled enough to not leave a trace and who knew where these cameras were... Someone who had access to surveillance.</p>
<p>Beck felt the tingle in her spine that told her she was being watched and slowly turned to her right. Up above on the catwalk was Sanchez. She had a handful of files in her hand, her eyes glued to them, but Beck knew she had been looking at her moments ago. Could she be the informant? She had the motive to after her position was taken from her. But how could she have had the time in three days after being demoted to get in touch with Nadir to plan all of this?</p>
<p>Beck groaned as she turned back to the screens in front of her. None of this was making any sense.</p>
<p>"Look, it's them..."</p>
<p>Beck glanced away from the screens for a moment when she began to hear whispers around her. It seemed as though the bustling and chaos stopped for a moment as something in the room shifted from tense to intense. She had begun to notice all the looks people were shooting in the direction of the entrance behind her. She followed their gaze and when she turned to see what they were all looking at, she was surprised to see a group of people she'd never seen before walking in, led by Agent Gideon.</p>
<p>"Who's that?" She asked out loud to no one in particular.</p>
<p>"Those are the people here to investigate us," Adams, another surveillance agent, explained to her from behind his desk, his eyes glued to the team just like everyone else's. "They're from the Bureau."</p>
<p>"Quantico?" Califax gasped from beside him. "Didn't Hawks say that Agent Gideon guy was apart of some unit at Quantico? The, uh... Behavior Unit?"</p>
<p>Beck drowned out the gossip as she studied the team walking in behind Gideon. The first one behind him was a tall man in a well-tailored suit. He had jet black hair similar to her own and bags beneath his eyes that told her he didn't sleep much. He carried himself differently than the rest of the people there, similar to Gideon, but a bit more professional. He must've been their Unit Chief.</p>
<p>After him was a much more muscular man. He was darker, had little hair on his round head, but a goatee on his face. He wore a muscle tee and had his holstered gun on display on his belt. He was the muscle of the team, she could tell.</p>
<p>Beside him was a more petite woman. She was brunette and from the way she was looking out at the sea of people around her, she was clearly a bit weary and overwhelmed and trying not to show it beneath her perpetual bitch face. She reminded Beck of Sanchez with the way she walked and ultimately dressed. Great, she thought to herself, there's two of them.</p>
<p>And finally, at the end of the line of FBI Agents, was someone she wasn't sure how to read. It was a man, but he wasn't exactly what one would consider when talking about the FBI. He was tall, lanky, and had long hair gelled back. He was wearing baggy clothes and looked like more of a college student rather than an Agent of the Bureau. Beck found herself wondering who let this kid pass the fitness test with how small he was. She wasn't tall by any means either and he probably trumped her by a foot and a half at least, but even she had to admit he was skinny as hell. Plus, he brandished his gun at an odd angle at the front of his hip where anyone could see and take easily... Maybe he was just the brains of the operation.</p>
<p>Still, as they walked and Beck watched them come directly down the aisle of the Pit towards her and the rest of Surveillance.</p>
<p>"Hey, Gideon," the familiar voice of Hawks caught Beck's attention. She hadn't even noticed him coming in and here he was walking out of his office to greet Gideon and his team.</p>
<p>Beck watched as their Unit Chief stepped forward and shook hands with her Director. "Special Agent Hotchner," he greeted him.</p>
<p>"Oh, I know who you are and your team, too," Hawks replied before letting go of his hand. "I've got the personnel files all set up for you guys. Video, whatnot. It's all there in the conference room. If you have any questions feel free to ask one of my senior officers."</p>
<p>Beck inwardly cringed when Hawks turned towards her, the team's eyes following in suit as they studied her like she had them upon arrival.</p>
<p>"This is Rebecca Ryder," Hawks introduced her. "She's the Associate Director of Field Operations." Gideon seemed to raise his eyebrows at the new title she'd gained in the three days since she'd seen him. Beck could only grimace in response. "And this is her second in command, Agent Gina Sanchez." Beck peered over her shoulder to find Sanchez close beside her instead of up on the catwalk where she'd been earlier. She seemed to grow even more pissed at being introduced as Beck's second in command.</p>
<p>"Hi," she greeted them all bitterly before turning to Beck. "Califax said you'd want to take a look at these," she stated as she shoved the files she'd been looking at earlier into her hands.</p>
<p>Beck took them, she could see Hawks continuing to give the FBI Agents the rest of the short tour of the unit out of the corner of her eye. "Thanks," she replied in a monotone voice.</p>
<p>"And don't think just because I'm you're new 'second-in-command' that I'll be getting you anything else," Sanchez snapped at her once the team and Hawks were out of arson and in the back conference room setting up their investigation. "You don't deserve this title and I'm going to enjoy watching you crash and burn under this kind of pressure, kid."</p>
<p>Beck had been biting her tongue when it came to confrontation with Sanchez. With Spruce, it was fun to snap back at him with retorts because she knew he'd take it in stride and not hate her at the end of the day. But Sanchez has hated her from day one and made it clear that if given the chance, she'd do to her what she did to John Summers and make it look like an accident. Well, she wasn't going to have it anymore. Especially if there was a good chance she was the mole. She wasn't going to bite her tongue anymore.</p>
<p>"Alright, Sanchez, look," Beck stated firmly as she slapped the files down onto the desk beside her. "I couldn't give a shit less whether or not you've got some kind of vendetta against me because you couldn't pull your shit together to pass something as simple as a psych eval. But right now, I'm gonna need you to stow your crap because our coworker is dead. Summers is dead-"</p>
<p>"You think I don't know that?" She snapped back. "I'm the one who had to pull the trigger and shoot through the head of his corpse!"</p>
<p>"Then you should know better than anyone here that this isn't a fucking joke," Beck lowered her voice as she spoke. "You can hate me all you want, but don't ever question my ability to do my job, especially when there are lives on the line. John Summers died to keep Aaliyah Nadir and her family safe. I'm not about to let either of them die in vain because you're too busy acting like a God damn child." And with that, Beck grabbed the files off the desk and pushed past Sanchez to get to the break room around the corner, leaving her second in command to stand in the middle of the Pit alone to process her words.</p>
<p>Beck meant each and every one of them, too. She had a job to do, people to save, and a mole to find. She wasn't going to let a stupid little grudge and a few FBI agents distract her.</p>
<p>As Beck made her way into the break room, she made sure to lock the door behind her. It might've looked suspicious, but she just needed her space away from all the chaos and she wasn't trying to hide anything, she herself knew that.</p>
<p>Frustrated and exhausted, Beck threw down the files onto the table and ran her hands down her face. Her eyes opened and fell onto the coffee maker, the pot only having less than half of the coffee made earlier left inside. Beck hated the shit, but she needed to stay alert and awake rig now through all of this madness.</p>
<p>She walked over to the pot and poured herself some coffee into a cup. After it was full, she reached over for the cream and poured in a decent amount until the dark brown coffee turned into a light brown. She took a small black straw and stirred it well. As she stirred, she couldn't help but think back on the way Summers had over-stirred his coffee anxiously waiting for his psych eval. She wondered if he knew he was going to die, if he knew he was in danger, if he knew there was a mole. She remembered he wasn't afraid of the psych eval, that was for sure. Was he afraid of what it entailed?</p>
<p>Beck looked up from her coffee as the thought crossed her mind: had John Summers called for his own unit's psych eval? If so, why?</p>
<p>Beck grabbed her cup of coffee and took a seat at the table, pulling the files in front of her. Had he known? Had Summers known about the mole? If so, how?</p>
<p>Beck flipped through the file and realized just how recent it was created. It was file on Summers. His psych eval from Gideon was near the back. Gideon's scribbled writing was a bit hard to translate, but she managed. She made out words like 'determined', 'hard-working', and 'Obsessive Compulsive Disorder'. She kept reading. 'Post Traumatic Stress Disorder', 'threw himself into his work', 'performs well under pressure', 'quick thinker who planned everything down to the last detail', and finally, 'closed off to hide his overcompensation from losing people in his life.' Beck frowned. Who knew just how much someone could be picked apart from a few questions and half an hour.</p>
<p>So now she knew who John Summers was. All she had to figure out was where Aaliyah Nadir was hidden and who the mole was.</p>
<p>John Summers planned everything down to the last detail. If, theoretically, Summers had called for the Unit's psych eval early on, why? He had to have had good reasoning. What had happened recently that made him suspect his own team?</p>
<p>Nadir.</p>
<p>Hassan Nadir had come to the States recently. She remembered hearing Summers get pissed about it the day before the evaluations. Hassan had come to the States and it wasn't hard to piece together why: he knew his wife and children were here. And, of course, no one could've known about the Saudi operation except for... Oh, God...</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>"Bruno Hawks, Gina Sanchez, Olivia Hopkins, Kruger Spence, and Rebecca Ryder," Gideon listed off the name of possible suspects.</p>
<p>Only five people could've been the mole as determined by Gideon and his team because only five people knew about the Saudi operation. His chest tightened at the thought of Rebecca Ryder being a suspect, but there were aspects to her that fit the profile. Big aspects.</p>
<p>"Five for five," the team's technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, confirmed from her place projected on the screen at the end of the conference room.</p>
<p>Gideon frowned. "See what else is on the tape," he requested. He vaguely heard her click out from the screen with a mere 'alright'.</p>
<p>Gideon leaned down against the table beside him, his brain working at a million miles a minute. It could've been one of the five people working closely with Summers... He chose them to help him with this operation to begin with... Why?</p>
<p>"John Summers would have only trusted seasoned agents... of which in this unit there are only five," he spoke his thoughts aloud for the team to listen in.</p>
<p>From across the table, Agent Elle Greenaway spoke up. "So, he guessed that the mole had to have been one of his five bosses."</p>
<p>"Actually, Ryder wasn't his boss at the time," Gideon remarked. "She's just recently been promoted, but before they were equals." The team cast odd looks to one another, wondering as to what their teammate was getting at by mentioning that fact. Agent Hotchner, down the way, could practically see the fears turning in his head as he considered that fact about Agent Ryder.</p>
<p>Standing beside him, Agent Derek Morgan put in his two cents trying to piece together the puzzle of the mole in the Counterterrorism Unit. "Before he officially extracted Aaliyah he wanted to know which one not to ask," he concluded. "Could Ryder being his equal have anything to do with his request to have her be evaluated?"</p>
<p>Gideon's frown deepened. No. He'd evaluated Ryder himself. Nothing about her screamed treason, if anything all she perturbed was the desperate need to belong to something. And in her case, she wanted to belong to an agency like the CIA. She wanted to feel secure. She wouldn't go against that for anything... But still... He couldn't rule anyone out...</p>
<p>"Gideon?" Hotch calling his name broke him out of his inner turmoil with himself. He hadn't realized he'd been standing there so quietly until then.</p>
<p>"We need to match up with them, one-on-one," Gideon eventually broke out of his head and began to sort out the seperate files of their five suspects.</p>
<p>He handed the first file to the team's resident genius, Dr. Spencer Reid, who carefully slid it in front of himself so he could speed-read through it. "Kruger Spence." Gideon figured Reid would have no problem trying to work with someone so close in intelligence as himself. Granted, they were on a different spectrum of intelligence, but Reid knew his way around that. He was a genius after all.</p>
<p>"Assistant Director of Operations. Recruited at the age of 18 after graduating from M.I.T.," Gideon recalled from already havi gone over his file before his psych eval only a few days ago.</p>
<p>Reid picked up where he left off on his file. "It says here he had six years experience as a weapons systems designer and an IQ of 197. He butted up against the system and didn't deal with authority, and they moved him into field operations in China for eight years before transferring him here."</p>
<p>Gideon knew Reid was coming up with the same conclusion that he was. He had probable cause to betray his unit and country and clearly had issues with his authority enough to go against it. But, still, no hard proof as to why a weapons system designer would be interested in aligning with a terrorist funder.</p>
<p>Next up, Greenaway started reading the file Gideon has handed to her.</p>
<p>"Olivia Hopkins," she read aloud. "Divorced mother of two. She spent nine years in field operations in Europe. She also visited Riyadh with Kruger and Rebecca." Gideon saw the sidelong glance Greenaway gave him at the mention of the girl he seemed to fixate himself on. He didn't react, only continued to stare out the glass windows of the conference room overlooking the unit. He couldn't find where Rebecca was, but he still kept an open ear to pay attention to the files.</p>
<p>The next one up was Morgan.</p>
<p>"I've got Gina Sanchez," he stated as he picked up the file in his hands. "West Point graduate. Black belt in two martial arts. Served in Iraq doing psychological operations with military intelligence. She joined the CIA five years ago. Speaks three languages, including Arabic." Morgan signed before continuing. "She's also formerly known as the Associate Director of Operations after she got demoted due to a psych eval." All eyes fell back to Gideon once more.</p>
<p>He signed. Another candidate with probable cause to commit treason. When Gideon first evaluated her, he could tell she too had issues with authority. Not because she didn't trust them, but because she was so self-assured of herself she believed she could do better. Her getting demoted probably didn't help her mindset too much either.</p>
<p>Hotch picked up his file next. "Bruno Hawks," he read. "Deputy Director of Operations. Extensive field ops in the Middle East, South Asia, and Europe. Did his military service with Jason Gideon." Gideon felt eyes on him once more as he turned his attention away from the window and glanced down at the file in front of him on the table.</p>
<p>"Rebecca Ryder," he read the name on the Manila folder. "Newly promoted Associate Director of Operations. Adopted by US Army General Phillip Ryder and provided a private education by the US government as apart of a prodigy program. Highly trained in over eight forms of martial arts. Speaks ten languages. A proficient weapons specialist. And is the youngest agent in the unit after being recruited at the age of eighteen and has been apart of field operations in the Middle East, South Asia, Europe, Northern Africa, and South America."</p>
<p>The room was silent as Gideon peered down at the photo on the file staring back at him of a young girl with bright eyes and a dream of helping people with her knowledge of death and destruction. She couldn't have done this, he felt it in what remained of his soul. But... even he knew he was biased and had to reply find out for himself, that's why he took special interest in her. Because to anyone on the team, from a distance, Rebecca Ryder looked like the prime suspect as the mole. She had the sources, the experience, the skills, the brains, and the power to do so. But, Gideon knew this girl. She had no incentive, no purpose.</p>
<p><em>"I know that if my team needs me to do something, it's for a purpose." </em>Those were her words. That's what she'd said to him. That she had her purpose, that her loyalty and trust was here with this agency. She worked her whole life towards this job and this sense of security after what had happened to her as a child. Gideon had to know for certain that she didn't do this...</p>
<p>When he broke his gaze away from Rebecca's picture, he saw his team's eyes on him. Waiting for his orders on what to do next. He followed through with advice.</p>
<p>"One thing I've learned over the years profiling CIA agents: spies are some of the smartest liars in the world," he stated. He glanced out across the tale towards his team. Each of them had their own knowledge, their own way of problem solving. They never failed to astound and impress him with just how much they could accomplish together and individually. "Be smarter."</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>She was a suspect.</p>
<p>It stuck with her in her core as the thought processed within her head. She was a suspect. She was a suspect for the murder of her teammate John Summers. She was a suspect for being a traitor working with a terrorist and abuser... God...</p>
<p>Beck stood from her seat at the table and took a step away from the files.</p>
<p>"Jesus," she let out an exasperated breath as she pushed her hair out of her face, her fingers running through the straight locks and grabbing hold of it to pull. This was insane. This was madness. This was... too much. God, Sanchez was right, she was gonna crash and burn under all this pressure- NO!</p>
<p>No! She was not about to let bitchy Gina Sanchez get to her. Not right now. Not ever. This wasn't about their little dispute. This was about catching a killer, a terrorist, and a traitor.</p>
<p>Beck grabbed hold of the coffee cup on the table and took a swig. It tasted like shit, but she downed it nonetheless. For Summers. "Come on," she heaved, tossing the empty cup in the trash beside her, her hands lying flat on either side of the file on the table in front of her. "You can do this. Pull it together, Beck... This isn't about proving your innocence. You've got nothing to hide. Just keep your head down and do your fucking job."</p>
<p>The sound of the break room door being opened caused Beck to stand up straight, her hand quickly coming up to shut the file on Summers closed out of habit. When she spun around to face the door, she was surprised to find Gideon stepping through, a key in his hand still stuck in the lock he'd just opened. Beck suppressed the urge to groan when she remembered she'd locked that... Yeah, like that didn't scream 'suspicious'.</p>
<p>"Sorry," she apologized half-heartedly. "I just needed my own space away from all the chaos..." It wasn't a lie. She didn't need to lie. She had nothing to hide.</p>
<p>Gideon gave her a reassuring smile in return. There were no teeth, but his skin still crinkled at the corner of his eyes. He was trying to come off as approachable, but even he knew they both too on edge for this to be comfortable in the slightest. "It must be stressful for you. Your new promotion and now all of this..." He gestured to the madness occurring outside the break room.</p>
<p>Beck nodded. "Yeah, this is..." she scoffed and shook her head. "'Stressful' is one word to use, I guess."</p>
<p>Gideon frowned at her clear dismay. "You know, most people that work their whole lives towards a job would be pretty excited to get promoted the way you did..." He exclaimed in a highly suggestive tone that made Beck's skin crawl slightly. "You didn't want that promotion Hawks gave you, though. Did you?" This was just like the psych eval, only this time both of them were aware what he was fishing for in that brain of hers: proof. Whether it was towards her innocence or guilt, she wasn't sure yet.</p>
<p>The agent new she couldn't lie. Why should she? It would get here nowhere in the end.</p>
<p>Beck pursed her lips before reluctantly admitting the truth, "No."</p>
<p>"So, why'd you take it?" He prompted her, his voice going up an octave indicating his blatant confusion in regards to her actions.</p>
<p>She huffed as she turned and began to pull all the files into a neat stack on the table, trying not to look at him as she responded, "I don't know, okay? Hawks, he's... he's given me everything. A home, a family, an education, training, this job! Everything! And now this promotion, it's just..." Beck let it a heavy sigh as she spun back around to face Gideon. "I didn't ask for it. I didn't even want it. I was good at what I did. I was fine with where I was at. And then this happened and it's just..." She paused for a moment to catch her breath before continuing again. "I feel like I've been set up for failure because deep down even Hawks knew I wasn't ready for this kind of responsibility."</p>
<p>Gideon let her words and explanation process for a moment. They stood in silence, her confessions lingering in the tense air of the break room before Gideon broke it with a simple question, "So, then why'd he promote you?"</p>
<p>"I don't know!" She snapped at him. "I don't know, okay? But I do know I have a job to do." With that, the short young woman grabbed the Summers file and started towards the break room door.</p>
<p>She was almost there when Gideon abruptly grabbed her arm, halting her in her tracks. Out of habit, Beck used her free hand to grab his wrist and rip it off of her arm. They stood there, frozen in time, his wrist being gripped tightly in her small hand in between their faces. She was glaring daggers at him and Gideon only stared down at her as if she was missing the most obvious of things.</p>
<p>"Something's not right here and you know it, Rebecca," Gideon told her.</p>
<p>"Is everything alright in here?"</p>
<p>Beck quickly dropped Gideon's hand as they both turned towards the familiar voice of Bruno Hawks who was, sure enough, standing in the break room doorway. "Everything's fine. We were just talking," Beck lied through her teeth. She saw something flash in Hawks' eyes. Something she could've only described as fear in that moment. But, she didn't have much time to unpack it when the sound of Spence out in the Pit got their attention.</p>
<p>"That's enough!"</p>
<p>Oh, shit. Something was happening out there.</p>
<p>All at once, Gideon and Hawks quickly left the break room to see what was happening, Beck hot on their tails. When she walked in, she immediately saw what was going on. In the middle of the Pit was Olivia standing face to face with the female FBI Agent. Olivia had a frown on her face and looked about ready to drop-kick Sanchez Jr. in front of took a lot to really piss of Olivia, so whatever that agent must've said really struck a chord with her. Spence too, by the way he was intervening.</p>
<p>"This is in violation of her civil rights," he angrily stated as he walked towards them from down the Pit aisle.</p>
<p>Hawks was already approaching to try and diffuse the situation. "Until they find the Sleeper, and we find Aaliyah, all rights are revoked," he stated firmly.</p>
<p>The statement made Beck shift uncomfortably. She felt as though she was being watched. Sure enough, when she glanced over her shoulder from off the steps of the break room, she could see that kid from the Bureau staring at her, studying her. He must've seen how unnerved she looked. She hated looking this vulnerable and was quick to set her jaw and swiftly turn back to the scene playing out in front of them, hoping Revolver boy would do the same and stop looking at her from afar.</p>
<p>"Where were you on the night that Summers was murdered?" The lady agent prompted Olivia, ignoring Spence's protests from before.</p>
<p>Olivia pursed her lips. There was something she was hiding, Beck could tell. Olivia was laid back at times. If someone came at her the way this agent was, she would've but back just as quick like she did all the times Spence would hit a nerve with her for those months they were staying together in Saudi. But, right now, she was completely silent. Everyone was.</p>
<p>Until Spence spoke from beside her.</p>
<p>"I was with her... in her apartment," he admit, a guilty expression on his face. Beck fought the urge to let her jaw drop to the floor at the realization that her teammates were hiding a lot more than they let on. An affair for one.</p>
<p>"Well, you're a married man," Gideon remarked from where he stood a few yards away. "At some point you must've left to get back to your wife, right?" Spence clamped his mouth shut. He turned to glance at Hawks, a thousand apologies written in his expression as he shook his head in remorse. Gideon then turned his attention to Olivia who was still standing silent before the lady agent who'd begun to back off. "You wake to an empty bed?" He asked her.</p>
<p>Beck noticed her lip quivering as she answered, "...yes. I did." Her voice broke as she spoke. But just as soon as her vulnerability showed, she was back to being the defensive Olivia recognized when she turned back to the lady agent in front of her and asked, "Are we done here?"</p>
<p>No one answered her, but Spence was quick to interject. "My wife will testify that I arrived home at 1:30 AM."</p>
<p>Beck rolled her eyes, Hawks speaking the exact thought that crossed her mind. "We all know none of this will ever reach a court," the underlying threat in his words hung in the thick air.</p>
<p>"Look, if you wanna arrest us for having an affair, be my guest," Spence told the FBI agents in front of them, his arms out in surrender. Beck rolled her eyes. God, he was a prick. Olivia deserved better and now he was dragging them both down with his fat mouth. She couldn't deal with this anymore.</p>
<p>As Hawks dismissed the group that had come to form around the middle of the Pit to get back to work, Beck pushed through to get back to the Surveillance Hub. As she was walking, she passed by the Revolver kid, his eyes still following her every move. "Enjoying the show?" She muttered bitterly as she swiftly passed him to get to the computers behind him where the rest of her people were waiting.</p>
<p>Alright, back to work. No more drama and turmoil. She needed to find where Summers hid Aaliyah Nadir before she was killed. Now, what did she know about Summers?</p>
<p>He was a control freak when it came to work. He planned everything down to the detail. He didn't just hide Aaliyah and her family anywhere, he hid her in a specific location for a specific reason. But where, and why?</p>
<p>"Adams," Beck called her agent to attention. "Can you pull up any and all uninhabited buildings? House for sale, buildings under construction, abandoned stores and warehouses, apartments not under lease," she listed off.</p>
<p>"Yes, ma'am." Adams began to type away at his computer screen at the speed of light. His fingers moving quick against the keyboard as he began to get the date she requested. Eventually, he hit the final button and a map of the area appeared with thousands of little red dots appeared on screen. All possible locations that Summer had stashed Aaliyah.</p>
<p>"Uh, can you narrow down that search to a five mile radius near John Summers' apartment building?" A new voice chimed in from beside Beck causing her to stiffen.</p>
<p>Adams glanced up momentarily, Beck turning as well to see the Revolver kid standing beside her, his eyes scanning the screen above them. He turned and glanced down at her, he grimaced as if asking for permission to continue what he had been trying to add. And for some odd reason, she felt compelled to accept his help.</p>
<p>Beck turned to Adams. "Do it."</p>
<p>Adams did as he was told and a few moments later, thousands of red dots was narrowed down to only a couple dozen within a five mile radius.</p>
<p>Beck nervously crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes scanning each dot for any kind of pattern or indication that Summers had any reason to hide Aaliyah and the children there. "It narrowed it down, but not much," she muttered mostly to herself, but loud enough for the Revolver kid to hear. "Summers was crazy about this case. He'd been working on it for a year. He isn't going to hide a woman he promised safety just anywhere..."</p>
<p>"No, he wouldn't..." the kid agreed in tandem, his eyes glued to the screen like hers. "Was there any place in particular Summers would talk about visiting near his apartment? A favorite park? A movie theatre? Restaurant? Store? Fishing spot?"</p>
<p>"I don't know," she answered truthfully. "He didn't talk about his personal life while here. No one did, really... We didn't really talk much to begin with, but when we did it always about work. It was like he knew nothing else."</p>
<p>"So, it wouldn't be somewhere personal to him," Revolver Kid deduced. "He'd have to have a logical reasoning as to why he would hide them there."</p>
<p>Beck paused momentarily before turning to Adams. "Eliminate all houses and apartments in the search," she ordered. Adams obliged and with a few clicks, half of the red dots on the screen disappeared leaving about two dozen left on screen. "Summers wasn't looking to keep them in this hiding place for long, he was planning on going back to them before he was captured."</p>
<p>"He would be hiding them in a temporary place. Somewhere no one would immediately think to look," Revolver Kid finished her thoughts in a rushed jumble of words. Beck turned to him and nodded.</p>
<p>They were on the same page. It was an odd feeling, matching a sort of fast, quick-banter, idea bouncing with someone. In all her years with CTU, it never felt natural the way it had just been right now with this Bureau kid. Maybe it was because there was just so many secrets they were all hiding.</p>
<p>Abruptly, Revolver Kid held out his hand between them. "Dr. Spencer Reid of the Behavioral Analysis Unit," he introduced himself.</p>
<p>Beck glanced down at his hand and took it in her own– well, more like put her tiny palm in his very large hand for him to shake. "Agent Beck Ryder of the Counterterrorism Unit," she introduced herself.</p>
<p>Dr. Reid furrowed his eyebrows. "Beck?"</p>
<p>"Short for Rebecca," she explained as he released her hand from his.</p>
<p>"No, I know that. It's just, most women who have their traditionally feminine name shortened to a unisex nickname, usually do so reluctantly after years of having the name being used by a male figure in their life," Dr. Reid explained in a vast expanse of breath in a short period of time that made Beck blink in surprise at just how much information someone could fit in a single sentence. "Your file said you were adopted, but spent most of your life busy in this training program that kept you away from home. I was just curious as to why you use 'Beck' instead of 'Becca'."</p>
<p>"Preference," Beck shrugged. "Plus, it's better than 'Reba.'" Dr. Reid tilted his head in curiosity at her answer. He opened his mouth to ask another question when all the screens on the Hub suddenly fritzed. "What the hell is this?" Beck demanded of her team.</p>
<p>"I-I don't know," Adams stammered as he began to panic-type on his keyboard. "The system just randomly crashed."</p>
<p>"Can you find the source?"</p>
<p>"No. I'm trying," Califax exclaimed from beside Adams.</p>
<p>"Try harder!" Beck snapped.</p>
<p>After a few moments of quick typing and mouse-clicks, the screens came back online.</p>
<p>"Figure out what the hell happened," Beck ordered her team. "I wanna know where that came from and who set that on our systems."</p>
<p>"Yes, ma'am," both Califax and Adams replied in unison as they quickly got to typing.</p>
<p>Beck, tuckered out from that momentary set-back, turned back to Dr. Reid who was glancing up at the screens, a frown on his lips as he tried to piece together a puzzle only he could see. Beck was about to ask him what it was he was seeing when the sound of her name being called caused her to clamp her mouth shut and turn towards the source. She found the Unit Chief of the BAU standing at the top of the catwalk near the conference room gesturing for her to come near. "You're needed," he vaguely stated.</p>
<p>Beck pursed her lips. "Keep working on that glitch," she ordered her team before starting off towards the conference room where the Unit Chief was corralling her as well as Sanchez and Spence. She walked in, Dr. Reid on her tail as well as that lady agent that had confronted Olivia earlier.</p>
<p>On one end of the conference room stood the Bureau agents, Gideon included. And standing near the door were Beck, Sanchez, and Spence. Within moments of walking in, Hawks entered from the second entrance of the conference room, his arms up in exasperation as he asked no one in particular, "What? What's going on?" Yeah, Beck wished she knew, too.</p>
<p>"What are we doing here?" Spence asked the Bureau agents in a frustrated tone.</p>
<p>"Well, clearly they have something to tell us, Sherlock," Beck retorted with a roll of her eyes. Tensions were high and shed just about had enough of Spence's shit.</p>
<p>Spence glared at her sidelong, as did Sanchez beside him. He turned back to the agents and asked in an outrage. "You're pulling us away from our assignments? There's a woman out there whose life depends on us." Beck bit her tongue, he had a point there.</p>
<p>Just then, Sanchez seemed to point something out Beck had nearly overlooked. "Where's Olivia?"</p>
<p>Beck glanced around Spence, past Sanchez, and then to Hawks. He had that same dead look in his eyes as he made a half-attempt to glance around the room like she and Spence were doing now: fear. She was scared, too. Beck turned to face Gideon. "Where is she? Did you arrest her?"</p>
<p>"Olivia Hopkins was murdered ten minutes ago. Her neck was snapped," the monotone voice of the Unit Chief echoed through the conference room.</p>
<p>"Just like John Summers," Gideon added, his eyes scanning the four agents in front of him gauging each of their reactions to the news.</p>
<p>Beck felt something shift in her stomach. It felt like it could've been throw-up, but Beck didn't feel sick she felt in shock and in disbelief. Murdered? Olivia? She'd just seen her a few minutes ago.</p>
<p>"What are you talking about?" Spence scoffed from beside her. "You're lying! Where is she?"</p>
<p>"She's dead..." Beck muttered beneath her breath in disbelief at the very idea, her eyes glued to the edge of the table in the middle of the room as she tried not picture her teammate's dead body lying in some office. She'd once told her she wanted to retire from the CIA one day. She warned to finish her therapy, get custody of her kids again, and go move to Palm Beach in Florida to go soak up the sun. Olivia knew her place wasn't behind some desk. It disgusted Beck to think that was where she died.</p>
<p>Spence began to grow worried at her words and the lack of response from the agents. "Look people don't just get murdered inside the CIA," he remarked, his eyes wide with fear. Fear and sadness.</p>
<p>"We do it all the time..." The words left Beck's mouth before she could stop them. Her eyes looked up from the table as she gained the courage to turn to her remaining teammates next to her. "We're trained for this. We are. And it was one of us. One of us killed her!"</p>
<p>"Becca," Hawks said her name in a soft whisper, trying to stop her from escalating the situation more than it already was.</p>
<p>"No," she firmly replied, refusing to back down from this. Someone had just murdered her teammate, and they were undoubtedly in this room. "No. We need to figure this out now."</p>
<p>Sanchez seemed to take her words to heart as she glanced up at Spence between them. He took notice and glared at her in response. "What are you looking at?" He defensively asked her.</p>
<p>"I realize the enormity of this, but Hassan Nadir is still out there looking to kill his wife and I need every agent on this," Hawks cut into the tense moment with emotionless words that just cut through the tension like a plastic knife. Reluctantly, Sanchez and Spence began to file out of the room, but Beck stayed in place, her eyes focused on his, but they were downcast. He couldn't meet her eyes. Why couldn't he meet her eyes? What was he doing? "That includes you, Agent Ryder."</p>
<p>"Olivia was just killed and you're worried about-"</p>
<p>"I need your head in the game!" He raised his voice at her. Any normal girl that was only half this man's size would've strayed away and backed off, but Beck knew her strength. She didn't even blink. "And I want you back to work. That's an order." What was he doing? What the hell was he doing? That was all that was going through her head as she watched him storm off back the way he came to his office, Gideon brushing past Beck to follow him. She couldn't move.</p>
<p>What was happening?</p>
<p>What was Hawks doing?</p>
<p>What did he do?</p>
<p>No. She pushed that thought from her head. It wasn't him. It couldn't have been him. He wasn't the mole. This was his unit, this was his life. He, like her, worked his whole life to get here to this position. He had a wife, kids, a team, a successful career. He hd her. Why would he be the mole? He wasn't. That was it– he wasn't. He couldn't be and it was insane to think so.</p>
<p>You have a job to do, she told herself inwardly as she spun on her heel and walked out of the conference room, walking past Dr. Reid as she did so. She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn't bother returning the stare as she made her way to the Surveillance Hub again. This time, she took a seat at her own desk, the Summers file still lying on top as she logged into her computer. She was going to find Aaliyah, find Hassan, and force him to tell her who this mole was because there was no way it was Hawks. No way.</p>
<p>Beck impulsively glanced over her shoulder at where the Unit Chief and the muscular agent were talking with Sanchez who seemed more than defensive, but pissed. She motive. She hated her guts and now Hawks after her demotion.</p>
<p>Then she looked across the edge of her cubicle and saw Spence being questioned by the lady agent and Dr. Reid. He had motive. He had been having an affair with Olivia who maybe might've found out what he was doing and needed her to stay quiet.</p>
<p>Both of them could've been equally guilty, but either way, she had to get this done. She had to find Aaliyah and now.</p>
<p>Beck lowered her head in her hands, her eyes glancing over at the picture of Summers' ID on his file. "Where'd you hide them, Summers?"</p>
<p>
  <em>"Good luck."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Hopefully I won't need it."</em>
</p>
<p>He planned everything down to the last detail...</p>
<p>She was looking at the wrong person. The wrong identity.</p>
<p>Beck grabbed Summers' file and flipped to the last page.</p>
<p>Reba Nunez. That was her deep cover, her secret identity in Saudi that she held in order to get close to Aaliyah as her temporary driver. That was how she faked Aaliyah and her kids' deaths. They all had their roles in this unit, on this mission, in this life. That was how Summers viewed this world.</p>
<p>He planned everything down to the last detail...</p>
<p>Jim Sauceda. That was Summers' deep cover. But, while Beck was a driver, Summers had a different cover completely while in Riyadh. He was in charge of extraction. "So, how did you get them out of there, John?" Beck asked aloud to herself. Finally, the last page flipped on his deep cover profile. Saudi Shipping Company... Shipping company... Shipping.</p>
<p>He planned everything down to the last detail...</p>
<p>"Adams!" Beck shot up from her desk and made her way over to the Surveillance Hub again. "Find me the nearest shipping yard to Summers' apartment."</p>
<p>"Yes, ma'am," Adams replied, quickly starting to type away. "Uh, got it. North up I-95 close to Langley." A red dot pinged onto the location in the computer screen.</p>
<p>Beck's smile broke into a full on grin as she stood straight up and called out to the conference room. "I've got her!"</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>"I can have a chopper on the roof, fueled and ready in two minutes," Sanchez exclaimed as she walked down to the Pit off the catwalk.</p>
<p>All of the CTU and BAU were gathered around the Hub with Aaliyah's location pinged on the screen above. Apparently, Beck wasn't the only one who had found Aaliyah and it was now a race against the clock to get there before Hassan did to her what he did to Summers.</p>
<p>"I can be there in about ten minutes by bike if you want to send me with a small field team," Beck interjected from where she stood near Gideon, her question directed towards Hawks.</p>
<p>He, however, wasn't having it. "There are thousands of containers at that port, what makes you so sure Aaliyah's in one of those containers?" He prompted the teams around him.</p>
<p>"We deduced," Beck replied. "It's the only good lead we have right now, Hawks. You have to let us take it." She stared up at him, not paying any mind to Gideon grabbed a pencil off of her desk behind her as she saw that same flash of fear in his eyes that she did earlier. Come on, she silently begged. Come on.</p>
<p>"Why don't we send in a SWAT team," the Bureau lady suggested. "Split 'em up, have them search in grids."</p>
<p>"It won't work," Beck responded.</p>
<p>"Why not?" She became defensive by her questioning her authority. Oh yeah, she was definitely like Sanchez.</p>
<p>"Why? Because Hassan has diplomatic immunity," her Unit Chief explained for Beck. "This mission can't exist."</p>
<p>Beck stepped forward then, her eyes glued onto Hawks' facial expression trying to read them as she begged, "Let me go. You know I can do this." He still wouldn't meet her eye and she inwardly felt a piece of her soul crumble. "Send me with a small team. I'll even take Sanchez." She felt like that young little girl that had just been found on the jungle floor again, begging the same man instead of taking her, he would let her go. Come on. Don't do this, she silently begged of him.</p>
<p>"Yeah, and how do we know neither of you are the mole?" Spence interjected with his big fat mouth again. God, if they ever made it out of this she was seriously going to shove her foot up his ass like she promised.</p>
<p>"They're not the moles," Gideon suddenly stated from behind them. Everyone turned around to see if maybe they heard him correctly. They did. "Morgan take Gina with you," he abruptly ordered the muscular Bureau agent. Beck felt her mouth drop slightly. Why her?</p>
<p>"Wait," Hawks protested. "This is my command. These are my people."</p>
<p>"We have jurisdiction here," the Unit Chief stated matter-of-factly before adding, "And there's nothing you can do to stop us."</p>
<p>"This is my career on the line," Hawks replied.</p>
<p>"Then Rebecca will go instead," Gideon stated. Beck turned to him, her eyebrows furrowed. He glanced down at her with the same look in his eye as though he was telling her she was missing the obvious yet again. What did that mean? What was she not seeing that he wanted her to?</p>
<p>She watched him hand the piece of paper he'd written on to the Unit Chief before turning back to Hawks and smiling knowingly. "You trust her, don't you?"</p>
<p>Beck turned to Hawks and found him staring down at her. He seemed to be contemplating something and she saw his eyes flicker to Sanchez then back to her before he eventually gave a firm nod of approval. "Always."</p>
<p>Beck returned the nod and went back to her job just as the BAU agents moved in on Spence. She wanted to believe he was the mole, but something else told her he wasn't...</p>
<p>She turned to Sanchez who looked totally pissed. "Call that chopper," she ordered her. If Sanchez wanted to say something to her, she kept it to herself as she sat at her desk and picked up her phone to call in that chopper. "You're with me, right?" The agent asked Agent Morgan, as Gideon had addressed him.</p>
<p>He nodded. "Seems that way," he replied.</p>
<p>Beck spun around on her heel to address her team. "Califax, I need you to use thermal imagery to search for bodies in each and every single one of those shipping containers. As soon as you find Aaliyah, you direct us from on the ground, got it?"</p>
<p>"Yes, ma'am," Califax nodded before turning back to her computer screen and typing away.</p>
<p>"Green, Adams, Duncan..." Beck began to call different agents from behind their desks. She hesitated on the last name. "Sanchez," she finished. Gina lifted her head up in surprise at her hearing her name being called by Beck. Beck was pretty surprised herself is she was being honest, but she nodded all the help she could get. And she had given her a speech about stowing her crap. "With me. Let's go."</p>
<p>Her team, including Agent Morgan and Sanchez, all started towards the infirmary to get on their gear. Beck was on her way over as well when a firm hand grabbed hold of her arm. Once again, out of habit, Beck grabbed the person's wrist from off her arm and held it up between the two bodies. When she turned to see who it was, she was surprised to find Dr. Reid staring back at her.</p>
<p>"Doctor-" she began when he abruptly cut her off.</p>
<p>"We don't have much time," he explained.</p>
<p>Back narrowed her eyes up at him. "Time for what?"</p>
<p>"Gideon's evaluation for Sanchez was that she believed herself to be superior to her peers because of her extensive background and experience. Her behavior could possibly lead to questioning authority and loosely following orders or not following them at all. She's a narcissist who felt threatened by you because of your own extensive experience that trumped hers as well as the ability to carry out orders no matter what," Dr. Reid explained in a flurry of words.</p>
<p>Beck shook her head. "What does this have to do with finding Aaliyah and her kids?"</p>
<p>"Hawks." The one word out of his mouth sent her heart plummeting. He didn't need to say much for need of an explanation, she knew what he was implying.</p>
<p>"No-"</p>
<p>"Agent Ryder, listen to me," he insisted. "Gideon told me you'd have a hard time believing me when I tried to tell you this because of your close relationship with Hawks. He told me you couldn't be convinced that he's the Sleeper, that you'd have to figure it out yourself which is why I'm telling you what he found out in his psych evaluations of both you and the woman you replaced."</p>
<p>"Sanchez hates my guts and thinks she's better than everyone. That doesn't prove Hawks is the mole, Dr. Reid," Beck retorted defensively, not wanting to believe a single thing he was saying. It wasn't possible. It wasn't true. She wouldn't even consider it. Not him.</p>
<p>"That's not the reason Hawks demoted her and promoted you," the Doctor explained. "Gideon's evaluation of you found that you were the complete opposite of Gina. You worked towards this job– this life, not because you wanted to better yourself or your country, but because you found security in something familiar. You were willing to do whatever it takes to keep that security, following orders included."</p>
<p>Beck shook her head. "I don't understand..."</p>
<p>"You do."</p>
<p>Beck stared up at him, his light brown eyes meeting hers. Something Hawks had never been able to do with her, even growing up, was look her in the eyes. Now, here was Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU staring into her crumbling soul, hoping she would understand the message he was trying to convey to her.</p>
<p>"Gina Sanchez doesn't obey orders without question," he stated. "You do. And Bruno Hawks knows it."</p>
<p>He suddenly pulled his wrist from out of her weak grasp. His eyes were still on hers as he backed away, the sound of his shoes against the tile of the hallway as he left her alone with her millions of thoughts and questions. She stood there for a moment, processing what she'd just heard.</p>
<p>She took a deep breath and pushed it to the side, she had to find Aaliyah Nadir and her children right now. Hawks could wait.</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>The chopper landed at the container yard in ten minutes. As soon as their feet hit the ground, Beck, Morgan, Adams, Duncan, Sanchez, and Green were all going their seperate directions.</p>
<p>Sanchez and Dunacn took to the far left with the helicopter trailing over them, Adams and Green went down the far right, and Morgan and Beck jogged down the middle through the containers.</p>
<p>"Talk to me, Califax, where are we going?" Beck called into her comms as she kept pace with Morgan's long legs that carried him down the rows of shipping containers.</p>
<p>"<em>Califax stepped away. It's Reid," </em>the Doctor spoke on the radio.</p>
<p>"Help us out, man," Morgan called into his radio. "Give me something."</p>
<p><em>"A hundred meters South West of your current location," </em>came his quick response.</p>
<p>"Thank you, Doctor!" Beck shouted in a sing-song voice before picking up her pace into a sprint and heading off into a different direction that what they were going towards. Her bangs blew in the wind, the rest of her free pieces from her ponytail whipping around as she ran, Morgan hot on her tail.</p>
<p>Eventually, their sprint settled down into slow and stead walk. Morgan went to the right, Beck moved to the left, her gun now drawn and out as she carefully maneuvered herself around the shipping containers.</p>
<p>"Dr. Reid," she called into her radio.</p>
<p><em>"They're right in front of you," </em>he responded.</p>
<p>Beck turned her head and aimed towards the large container directly in front of her. Sure enough, there was a small opening on the door with a cracked lock. In the bottom corner was a Saudi flag. This was it. This was where John Summers had stashed Aaliyah and the kids and where Hassan was right now with them.</p>
<p><em>"Morgan," </em>Agent Gideon's voice came through the comms. <em>"Make the arrest, it's FBI jurisdiction. You're in charge."</em></p>
<p>They were going to take him in alive... It made sense. With everything Hassan knew, Beck was sure the CIA would want him alive. So, why was Gideon telling Morgan to do the obvious? And why make a point topping out jurisdiction...?</p>
<p>He planned everything down to the last detail...</p>
<p>John Summers sure was a control freak and now it was working towards her advantage... Or disadvantage.</p>
<p>This is your call, she told herself. You have one shot at this, Summers set it up perfect for you. Just like everything else in your life, it's all been set for you to make that choice. This was it. Was she to trust Gideon who just came back into her life s few days ago or was she to trust the man that's been a constant in her life since the day she was rescued?</p>
<p>She wanted to pice Hawks the benefit of the doubt, she did. But then she remembered what Dr. Reid had told her about her promotion.</p>
<p>
  <em>"Gina Sanchez doesn't obey orders without question. You do. And Bruno Hawks knows it."</em>
</p>
<p>She followed orders without question. That was all she knew how to do, her whole life. She was raised that way since her time as a child soldier in Asia. Did Bruno Hawks know then too? Was that what all this was? The final showdown to test that theory shed been wondering about in the back of her head of whether or not she had been used by him because of this ability to only obey? Was that why he brought her back to the States, gave her an education, training, job, and promotion? Why he let her come here in the first place to hunt down Hassan?</p>
<p>This was it.</p>
<p>He planned everything down to the last detail... And now it was her turn to pick up where he left off to finish what he couldn't.</p>
<p>"Wait a minute, wait a minute. I think we found something." Morgan paused at the door of the shipping container, bringing Beck back to the present. "On three," he whispered to Beck, she nodded in agreement, her hand coming up to the metal door.</p>
<p>"One... Two... Three.."</p>
<p>On three, the pair three open the metal doors. As soon as they were out of the way, Beck and Morgan already had their guns up and trained on Hassan Nadir holding his wife against him... with the barrel of a gun pressed against her temple, his two children nearby in the wall, crouching away in fear.</p>
<p>"FBI!" Morgan shouted to Hassan at the same time Beck shouted, "Drop it!"</p>
<p>Morgan stepped forward and Beck held back. "Let the lady go and put the gun down," he ordered him. He refused to do so and remained in the same position they'd found him in. "I said put the gun down!" Morgan repeated more dimly as he closed in on him.</p>
<p>Eventually, Hassan did as he was told. He pushed Aaliyah to the side with her children and gently place the gun on the shipping container floor. Beck didn't falter as she kept her guard and gun up, still trained on Hassan, but her eyes continued to dart towards Morgan.</p>
<p>"Diplomatic immunity, my friend," Hassan exclaimed smugly as he held his hands above his head in surrender.</p>
<p>"Uh-uh. You got it wrong, my friend," Morgan retorted. "This container hasn't passed through Customs. Officially, we're not on US soil," he explained to the man whose smug smile slowly began to dissipate. "Summers was a smart man." Damn...</p>
<p>Beck inwardly cringed. This was her shot.</p>
<p>He planned everything down to the last detail... This included.</p>
<p>In a swift motion, Beck stepped behind Morgan then, her gun's barrel pressed against the back of his head as she exclaimed, "Yes, he was..." She felt Morgan stiffen beneath her aim and she knew he'd probably hate her after this, but he'd understand soon enough. "Drop your gun, Agent," she ordered in a firm voice.</p>
<p>She watched as Morgan slowly lowered his gun, the barrel no longer pointed at Hassan as he placed it back into his holster.</p>
<p>"Good, now kick his away," she ordered the agent. He did as he was asked. Kicking Hassan's discarded weapon to the side. Carefully, Beck stepped away from Morgan and turned her weapon onto Hassan. "Walk," she commanded, gesturing the barrel towards the exit to the container. Slowly, he began to walk. "You too," she called to Aaliyah and the children. They did as was asked and followed Hassan's lead outside of the container into the open light provided by the hovering chopper above.</p>
<p>"Rebecca, what the hell are you doing?" Morgan demanded as he followed the family's lead, watching as Beck lined herself up with Hassan who stood a few yards away with his hands up, his wife and kids t the side where Morgan stood, watching this trained woman aim her weapon at him.</p>
<p>"Just following orders, Agent," Beck replied as she held her stance and maintained her aim.</p>
<p><em>"Morgan? Morgan?" </em>Agent Gideon called out on the radio. <em>"Morgan, what's going on?"</em></p>
<p>Beck watched out of the corner of her eye as Morgan reached for his radio and called in a reply, "Gideon, we've got a situation here!" Come on, she silently pleaded with some higher power that she'd been wrong. That Spence or Sanchez really was the Sleeper. That Hawks was going to come onto that radio and shout at her telling her to bring in Hassan Nadir ALIVE. Come on... She just needed to hear those words.</p>
<p>Then she did.</p>
<p>She heard those words.</p>
<p>
  <em>"Rebecca, don't do this."</em>
</p>
<p>Only, it wasn't from the person she needed to hear it from.</p>
<p><em>"Beck, don't do this," </em>Agent Gideon begged her over the comms.</p>
<p>God dammit, COME ON! "I don't take orders from you, Gideon!" Beck shouted back in defiance. Morgan probably couldn't tell through the wind whipping up her black hair all around her face or the shitty lighting the helicopter provided, but there were tears blooming in the corner of her eyes. "Hawks! What do you... what do you want me to do?"</p>
<p>Come on... Come on... Come on...</p>
<p>"Please! Please, stop this!" Aaliyah begged for her to stop. God, even Aaliyah knew this was wrong. She was pleading for her to spare the man that raped and abused her for years. All she needed was the same from Hawks.</p>
<p>"Hawks?"</p>
<p>Come on... Come on... Come on...</p>
<p>Then she heard him for the first time.</p>
<p>
  <em>"You know what to do."</em>
</p>
<p>Come on... Come on... Come on...</p>
<p>"Say it," her voice cracked as she called back over the radio. But inwardly she was pleading, don't say it, don't say it, please don't say it. Don't prove me right. Don't tell me it was all for nothing. Don't tell me all you ever did was use me. Don't. Please.</p>
<p><em>"Becca, what are you waiting for?" </em>She heard him ask in a frustrated tone.</p>
<p>God, no... Come on!</p>
<p>
  <em>Gina Sanchez doesn't obey orders without question.</em>
</p>
<p>Beck took a deep breath in.</p>
<p>
  <em>You do.</em>
</p>
<p>Then she let it out with an answer, "An order."</p>
<p>
  <em>And Bruno Hawks knows it.</em>
</p>
<p><em>"Finish him," </em>he ordered. <em>"Finish him!"</em></p>
<p>
  <em>He knows it...</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He knows it...</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He knows it...</em>
</p>
<p><em>"Beck, don't do this!" </em>Gideon shouted again. She wasn't going to.</p>
<p>"You're gonna cut the feed, right?" She called back to Hawks. "You're gonna keep me out of trouble like you always have?" The tears were pouring over now. The wind barely managing to get her hair to cover them. Morgan could see them from where he stood, but Hassan was too focused on the gun pointed at him to notice that the woman holding it was crying.</p>
<p><em>"Always, Becca," </em>he replied, confirming all her worst fears and darkest nightmares. That she'd been used. She'd been used as his weapon. All this time... Always... <em>"Always."</em></p>
<p>God damn it, Bruno.</p>
<p>Rebecca Ryder then did the unthinkable and turned her gun up and away from Hassan Nadir, aimed it up at the sky and fired. Five. Consecutive. Shots.</p>
<p>
  <em>Bang!</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Bang!</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Bang!</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Bang!</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Bang!</em>
</p>
<p>Morgan flinched the first time. Hassan and his family flinched for the first three. Beck didn't flinch not once.</p>
<p>Beck held a cold hard stare on Hassan as she put her gun away in her holster. She watched numbly as Sanchez, Duncan, Adams, and Green all closed in, grabbing Hassan and cuffing him quickly as the familiar sounds of sirens began to approach. She figured right now would be the time that Gideon, Dr. Reid, and the rest of the BAU would expose Bruno as the one who aligned with Hassan for money in exchange for his wife's location, ultimately leading to him killing John Summers, then Olivia Hopkins, then attempting to use a girl he'd told he thought of as a daughter to do his bidding by killing the man he aligned himself with to begin with.</p>
<p>She felt so numb and cold and empty. And for the most part, alone.</p>
<p>"Hey," Agent Morgan's hand on her shoulder broke her from her scrambled thoughts. "You alright?"</p>
<p>She glanced up at him through her messy bangs and answered him truthfully, "No." With that, she brushed past him towards the chopper landing nearby that Hassan was currently being shove into. She climbed in across from him, Morgan jumping in beside her. The ride back to Langley didn't take long, but the entire time, all Beck could think of was whether or not Hawks thought it was worth it yet.</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>When the field team returned with Aaliyah Nadir, Hassan, and the children in tow, they were met with more agents. Some to take Aaliyah and the children away to the infirmary to get checked up on, and the others to escort him to an interrogation room.</p>
<p>Beck walked along side the agents escorting Hassan, Morgan and Sanchez close by. And as they walked through security and up to where the Pit was, they caught sight of a very different group walking out of the CTU. It was a set of agents walking Bruno Hawks out of the Pit in handcuffs, among them were Spence, the lady agent of the BAU, the Unit Chief, Dr. Reid, and Agent Gideon. He looked pissed, but not defeated. In fact, when Hawks' eyes finally met hers for the first time, all she saw was smugness.</p>
<p>Then it all went red.</p>
<p>The petite woman picked up her speed, walking past Hassan and his guards and ignoring the shouts of protest from Sanchez and Morgan behind her. Her vision slowly grew more red until she stood right in front of him. The agents escorting him out, shied away out of fear of the pissed off agent storming towards them. So when she abruptly threw a hard punch against Hawks' nose, all they could do was yank him in one direction, while a pair of large arms pulled her away in the opposite direction.</p>
<p>"You <em>bastard</em>!" She spat at him as she struggled against the firm hold around her middle. Hawks fell backwards slightly, his nose a deep shade of red as crimson liquid began to ooze out from his nostrils. It did feel satisfying to hear the crunch of his nose beneath her fist, but nothing could make the pain of betrayal go away.</p>
<p>And it was just like a knife being twisted deeper and deeper into her back.</p>
<p>After Hawks regained his balance and could properly look back at his old prodigy, it was like he morphed into a completely different person before her eyes. "You little bitch," he growled back at her. "You were supposed to be better than this!"</p>
<p>Beck scoffed. "Me? You betrayed your team! You betrayed your country! You betrayed me! And for what? A few million dollars?" She spat back. "If anyone was supposed to be better, it should've been you."</p>
<p>"We could've been unstoppable together, Becca!" He shouted.</p>
<p>Beck felt a piece of her crumble and die from within at his words. "I don't want to be unstoppable! I'm not a power-hungry sociopath like you!" She screeched, the arms around her waist pulling her back against them to keep her from running over to her old mentor and strangling him before he had the chance to break in his cuffs.</p>
<p>"Did you even feel anything when you killed John? Or Olivia? Or when you were so quick to throw Spence under the bus?" She demanded answers from him. "How far were you willing to go, Bruno? Would you have killed me...?"</p>
<p>The silence from him was louder than anything he could've ever said in response.</p>
<p>Beck let out a cynical scoff as she backed away from him. This monster in front of her that used her. From the very beginning. All of it was a sham. He'd done it all, telling her he'd cared for her and that he wanted what was best. When in reality, all he wanted was someone he could aim and fire at without any repercussions. And she was stupid enough to obey.</p>
<p>Before the tears began, Beck yanked herself out of the iron grip the BAU Unit Chief had pulled her into and stormed away. She briefly heard Hawks call her name once, twice, three times. It was the last thing she heard as she walked around the corner into the CTU Pit.</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>Agent Gideon found her sitting alone in the CTU break room. A cup of coffee in front of her, her jacket pulled over her shoulders, and her motorcycle helmet at her feet. Her eyes were downcast, starring at the cream in the coffee spin inside the cup, going around and around and around. He couldn't imagine how she must've felt right now.</p>
<p>"Rebecca," he greeted her tentatively from the doorway. It was then as he got closer that she had an earphone plugged into her phone. He could hear the sounds of a whining electric guitar playing from the second earphone. He recognized the song... "The Scorpions? Kind of old fashioned, don't ya think?"</p>
<p>She didn't answer him. She didn't even react.</p>
<p>"Rebecca, look-"</p>
<p>"Did you know?"</p>
<p>Her voice was barely above a whisper, but Gideon heard her loud and clear.</p>
<p>He paused momentarily, choosing his next words widely before replying, "Did I know what?"</p>
<p>Slowly, she glanced up at him through her jet black hair hiding her pale complexion underneath. "Did you know back when Hawks wanted me to come back to the States?" She clarified. "I don't remember much, but I remember how uncomfortable the idea of me becoming a CIA agent in training made you. Was it because you know what he had planned for me?"</p>
<p>Gideon let out a sigh. "No. No one could've known, Beck. Not you. Certainly not me," he answered her truthfully. "This isn't your fault. Any of it. Bruno made his choices, and now it's time for you to make yours. What're you thinking, kid?"</p>
<p>"I'm thinking I seriously need something stronger than coffee if I'm going to be making any other rational decisions tonight," she replied sarcastically.</p>
<p>"Maybe you should get something to eat first," he stated. He recalled not having seen her eat anything since arriving. He knew she shouldn't be this way in an empty stomach, it would only make matters worse for her. "There's a vending machine down the hall. What do you want? It's on me."</p>
<p>She shrugged nonchalantly. "Anything sweet sounds good."</p>
<p>"Alright, I'll be right back with that." Gideon stood up and walked out of the break room. He got to the vending machine and wasn't really sure what to get her and ended up paying ten bucks for a gummy worm bag, a granola bar, and a cookie pack. But when he walked back into the break room with the snacks, he was surprised to find that she was gone.</p>
<p>Beck had vanished. The only thing she left behind was her CIA badge, government-issued gun, and the keys to her apartment in DC. Beside her belongings was a sticky-note attached to the half-empty cup of creamed coffee that had a message written in perfect, delicate penmanship he recognized as her own that read 'c<em>onsider this my official resignation - Rebecca Ryder.</em>'</p>
<p>That was it. This was all Beck had left.</p>
<p>Gideon, being the sentimental man he was, took the sticky-note from off cup and pocketed it. He liked to keep memorabilia of the victims he'd saved at the BAU, but Beck was different. He saved her years ago, but today... today she saved herself. And he felt as though she needed to be commemorated for that, whether she was there to see it or not.</p>
<p>That was the last he'd heard of Rebecca Ryder after that night. She left his life just as soon as she'd came, just like the last time they'd met. But he wasn't worried. Jason Gideon knew she'd pop up again, probably sooner than he thought.</p>
<p>He was right, of course. Just not in the way he thought he would be.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>:)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Bullet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <strong>
      <span>Bullet</span>
    </strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>•••</p>
<p>
  <em>"A promise made is a debt unpaid." – Robert W. Service, The Cremation of Sam McGee</em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>ONE YEAR LATER</p>
<p>
  <em>—</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Run. Run. Run. Run. Run.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Don't stop.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You can't stop.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Keep going.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Run.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Run!</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>RUN!</em>
</p>
<p>Jason Gideon kept telling himself as he pushed through the mental and physical exhaustion from the past two hours of non-stop running after previously stopping at his bloody and broken apartment.</p>
<p>God, there was blood... so much. And Sarah... Oh, God, Sarah...</p>
<p>She was innocent. A nobody. Just a friend he was trying to reconnect with, even try to...</p>
<p>No– he couldn't think about that now. She was gone. There was nothing he could do to bring her back. But there was something he could do to help bring the man that did this to face the justice he so badly needed after decades of non-stop killing and mutilations.</p>
<p>Frank's long reigning freedom needed to come to an end. And who better to stop him than his team, only... he knew they needed something more. Someone more.</p>
<p>And he knew just who to tip off.</p>
<p>–</p>
<p>Rebecca Ryder shifted in her seat behind the handles of her motorbike as she pulled up to the lovely cemetery just a few miles away from the beach in Tampa, Florida. There were already several other fancy cars parked along either side of the road that cut through the large field of grey, white, and black headstones covered with flowers, wreaths, and other gifts left by their closest families and friends. A daily reminder of who and what they're missing after they're gone. And today, that field added yet another body buried within it.</p>
<p>
  <em>Olivia Hopkins.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Beloved mother, wife, daughter, sister, and American hero.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>1975-2006</em>
</p>
<p>It felt surreal for Beck. A year ago, the biggest loss she'd ever truly faced was a distant family member of her foster parents. This was... different. This was the first close friend (if she could even call Olivia that) that she'd ever lost.</p>
<p>And it was all because of one greedy, power-hungry bastard.</p>
<p>Beck clenched her fists as she stood beside a large group of people there at the burial for Olivia. She was surrender by her real friends, her close family, and acquaintances. Across the large tent set up in front of dug hole where the closed casket sat ready to be lowered down, Beck had spotted Sanchez and a guilt-ridden Kruger. They hadn't spotted her yet, though. Gina would've looked less relaxed in her presence and Kruger would've already tried to talk with her. After all, she had disappeared off the face of the Earth after everything...</p>
<p>After her abrupt resignation following Bruno Hawks' arrest and the entire incient with Hassan Nadir, John Summers, and the Behavioral Analysis Unit, Beck took some time for herself.</p>
<p>She decided to pack up her shit from her apartment (which wasn't a lot) and hit the road. Her first few days away from DC, Beck managed to make it to Los Angeles. Out of spite, she booked a flight to Vietnam where she spent her second week on a lost path just taking in the scenery of the jungle she was found, wondering if she would've been better off just staying at that camp to be massacred. Maybe then Bruno Hawks wouldn't have been able to use her blind loyalty as a way to make her do his dirty work for years.</p>
<p>But, she eventually had to return and out those demons to rest for good.</p>
<p>So, she took a free-lance job with the CIA one last time to fake Hawks' death. She knew he knew too much to just be locked away at any old prison. Now Bruno Hawks' ghost sat in a hard cemented prison cell buried deep in some mountain, while Beck Ryder's shell of a body longed to have another purpose now that her's was officially gone.</p>
<p>Now she wandered aimlessly, searching for something– anything, to help her feel... secure again.</p>
<p><em>"You worked towards this job– this life, not because you wanted to better yourself or your country, but because you found security in something familiar," </em>that was what that BAU agent had told her. The tall Dr. Reid that had assisted in finding Hassan Nadir and helped her realize who the mole really was...</p>
<p>Something familiar.</p>
<p>War. Death. Killing.</p>
<p>That was what was so familiar about the Counterterrorism Unit Hawks had gotten her into. Maybe she just needed a change of pace.</p>
<p>So now here she was at the funeral of a work acquaintance-slash-somewhat-friend. It had only taken a year for it to finally take place, but the family had pushed it back for so long due to complications with the children and their father that had separated from Olivia. A part of Beck wanted nothing more than to tell her kids just how much they meant to her, how she looked at that little picture she had of them on her desk almost every day and on hard days when she missed them, she'd play their favorite songs to herself by herself in her car and cry just a little bit during her lunch breaks. But... it wasn't her place, so she didn't.</p>
<p>She did, however, stick around for the food and drinks that were provided at the nearby venue.</p>
<p>All around her, Beck was surrounded by men, women, and children dressed in formal black attire, the occasional person wearing a splash of color. Beck stood out for once as she sported blue jeans, a white blouse, and a black blazer. It wasn't too formal, but none of her formal clothes could exactly be worn on the back of a motorcycle.</p>
<p>Around her third mojito refill at the open bar, Beck finally out herself in the line of sight of one Gina Sanchez who had been talking with who Beck assumed to be a family friend. It didn't take long for Sanchez to make her way to Beck's side at the marble counter where the bartender set down her third drink of the day.</p>
<p>"Day drinking, Ryder?" Sanchez prompted as she took a seat on the stool beside her. "You're really going all out for your retirement, huh?"</p>
<p>Beck scoffed. "Who said I was retired?" She retorted as she took a sip of her drink. "You must really enjoy it, though." Sanchez furrowed her eyebrows at her words, clearly confused about what she meant. "Not being in constant competition with me anymore," Beck elaborated.</p>
<p>"Competition with you-?" Sanchez scoffed when Beck cut her off swiftly.</p>
<p>"You can stop trying to pretend like you weren't threatened by my presence at the CTU for five brief seconds. The only thing you're accomplishing is making yourself look more like a brat," Beck stated. "Everyone in that unit knew how much you hated me... And all because of what? I knew a few more languages than you? Had better aim? Better training? Had better tactical skills? You were like a high school bully, Sanchez. It was kind of pathetic."</p>
<p>Sanchez shifted uncomfortably in her seat as Beck finished off her beverage with a final gulp.</p>
<p>"Look, I'm sorry about all those years of..." Sanchez trailed off.</p>
<p>"Being a bitch?" Beck offered.</p>
<p>Sanchez gave her a small glare that softened into a guilty frown. "Yeah... That," she replied. "I never meant to make your life a living hell, and... truth be told, I never realized just how much we really needed you until you were gone."</p>
<p>Beck's nails dug into her thigh as she slid her empty glass back over the bar counter, tapping the edge to signify to the bartender that she wasn't leaving anytime soon, and neither was Gina.</p>
<p>"Let me guess," Beck signed. "You're short staffed after half the unit was either killed by Bruno Hawks or stabbed in the back by him. What, does Kruger need a new assistant to replace Olivia already?"</p>
<p>"Kruger has a new assistant already," Sanchez explained as she pursed her lips and clasped her fingers together in her lap. "What we need is a new Associate Director of Operations..."</p>
<p>Beck's eyes shot up to meet Sanchez's. "But that's your position..."</p>
<p>"Actually, I got promoted to Bruno's old spot," she stated.</p>
<p>Beck blinked in surprise at that tidbit of information. They replaced him quick. "Well, congratulations. You deserve it," she muttered as she reached for her newly refilled drink.</p>
<p>Sanchez let out a heavy sigh as she watched the former CIA Agent before her chug down an entire mòjìto in three large gulps and slam the glass back into the counter. God, where was her mind right now? She looked like shit.</p>
<p>"I know you only had the position for a few days, but I'm willing to work with you some more, give you a bit of leniency-"</p>
<p>"I'm not going back," Beck abruptly stated. Sanchez stiffened at her words. "Thanks for the job offer, Sanchez, but I'm not going back to CTU." With that, Beck slid a ten dollar bill to the bartender as a quick tip before slowly standing from her stool. She needed to get out of that place and away from Sanchez. Besides, it was about time she left anyway.</p>
<p>She was on her way out when Sanchez caught her arm.</p>
<p>Beck spun back around to face her after almost immediately ripping her arm from her grip. Sanchez looked her dead in the eye as she stated with her whole chest, "You can't just keep running from your future because of some screw up your boss made."</p>
<p>That was it. Proof.</p>
<p>Proof that still no one had a clue about what Bruno Hawks being the mole in the CTU meant for Beck. Proof that they really had no clue just how much he used her, how much he used the team, how much he put them through. Proof that she should have never been there in the first place.</p>
<p>Beck scoffed in Sanchez's face. "Good luck making it anywhere in this line of work with your ego, Gina. Maybe eventually you'll realize you're not the smartest person in the room."</p>
<p>"And you are?" She prompted her.</p>
<p>Beck let the smug smile she'd been holding in finally show as she glanced up at the Hispanic woman through her eyelashes. "Yes," she answered simply before spinning on her heel and leaving the agent standing in the middle of the crowded venue alone and slightly shaken by just how arrogant and cocky someone could be. Maybe then she'd understand that she wasn't the only one with a big ego, but at least Beck's was well-placed.</p>
<p>She eventually made it out of the venue in one piece. Her confrontation with Sanchez aside, Beck intended on coming to simply say goodbye to an old friend. But now she had every intention to go get shit-faced at the nearest bar and maybe take someone home with her afterwards. Honestly, she just needed a distraction. Something– anything to make her feel something other than completely and utterly lost.</p>
<p>She was on her way to her bike parked in the back of the building when her phone suddenly rang in her back pocket.</p>
<p>Beck pulled out her cell and read the number... It was Bureau number.</p>
<p>The last time she'd spoken to someone in the Bureau it was Gideon. Gideon. That was a decent distraction, she figured. She opened her phone and hit the answer button.</p>
<p>"Ryder."</p>
<p>"<em>This is Section Chief Erin Strauss of the Behavioral Analysis Unit with the FBI</em>," came a feminine voice on the other line, catching Beck off guard momentarily. Beck had every intention of hanging up on her until she said something that caught her attention. "<em>I hear you're a free-lancing ex-CIA agent in need of a job</em>."</p>
<p>Beck glanced back at the venue behind her. Two job offers in one day... Hm. You go to one funeral and suddenly there's more job opportunities than at a fair. Who would've thought?</p>
<p>"What do you have in mind, Chief Strauss?" Beck prompted.</p>
<p>"<em>One of our own is currently on the run after being involved with a gruesome homicide in his own home</em>," the Section Chief explained. "<em>I'm afraid my team won't be able to find and bring him in with an unbiased mindset. I need someone on the outside to hunt him down in order to bring him to justice. I've been told you're the person to call if I'm in need of an extra pair of hands and a good eye</em>."</p>
<p>One of their own...? Who from the Behavioral Analysis Unit committed homicide and was dumb enough to try and run? Wait... why was that what she was focusing on after what the Chief just told her?</p>
<p>"Who told you that?"</p>
<p>"<em>Quite a few of my team members gave stellar reports about what occurred last year with Bruno Hawks. Not to mention, I've done quite a lot of digging of my own on your past... projects</em>," came her reply. Beck shifted herself on the seat of her parked bike, her eyes drifting across the parking garage as if someone would hear about some of those so called 'projects' the Section Chief was hinting at.</p>
<p>Her curiosity got the best of her. "...What do you mean by needing a good eye?"</p>
<p>There was a heavy sigh on the other line before she got a reply. "<em>Things are moving fairly quickly and I need an answer now. If you'd like more details, the team I've compiled for you is waiting to brief you on the plane in the Bureau Terminal at your discretion wherever you may be.</em>"</p>
<p>Beck couldn't help the brief smile that ghosted her lips. "You're really sure I'm going to take this assignment, aren't you, Strauss?" She teased.</p>
<p>Beck could practically hear the Section Chief's frustration growing on the other end of the line. "<em>I think you will</em>," Strauss continued. Beck furrowed her eyebrows in curiosity.</p>
<p>Okay... She'd bite. "Why's that?"</p>
<p>"<em>Because it's about Agent Gideon</em>." Beck felt her chest constrict at the Chief's words. "<em>I've been told you two have a history dating back from before you joined the Agency. In fact, it was his suggestion to interview you for a job here at the BAU.</em>"</p>
<p>Now this was a development if there ever was one. Beck sat in the middle of the venue parking lot with a million questions running through her head in this single moment: why would Agent Gideon be on the run from the Bureau? Why would Strauss want her of all people to help bring him in? And why was the Section Chief offering her this job on his request? The entire situation was one jumbled mess, a scattered puzzle if she ever saw one... And Beck would be damned if she didn't want to hop on that plane and race to DC to put the pieces together.</p>
<p>"I'm in Tampa, Florida," Beck relented. "How long can that team get here?"</p>
<p>"<em>The plane can be at Tampa International in two hours</em>." Beck could practically hear the Section Chief's smile from the other end of the line.</p>
<p>There was a beat of silence where neither of the women spoke. Beck was the one to break the silence with the one question she'd been dying to ask since getting this offer: "You sure I'm the one you wanna call in for this?"</p>
<p>There was long pause followed by a sigh and eventually Strauss' answer. "<em>I'm not sure of anything right now. This is the only option I seem to have and I'm inclined to take it</em>."</p>
<p>Beck frowned down at her shoes tapping impatiently against the asphalt. The distant sounds of more people leaving the post-funeral venue to get to their cars was nothing but white noise as Beck replied, "Fair enough."</p>
<p>And with that she shut her flip-phone and slid it back into her jacket pocket. In one swift motion, she was on her bike placing her heavy helmet over her face. The bike jerked to a start once she started the ignition and hit the acceleration. She imagined she probably pissed a few people off still inside the venue but she didn't care- she was back in the game again. A very deadly game she just couldn't get enough of.</p>
<p>
  <em>—</em>
</p>
<p>It was quick to get from the funeral venue to her hotel to the Tampa Airport. She was dressed in less than twelve minutes, packed in twenty, and pulling up to the Bureau's private hangar in thirty. She was early and watched from the seat of her bike as the Bureau jet finally landed from DC nearly 45 minutes after that.</p>
<p>They were definitely expecting the little Asian woman in all black because she barely took five strides towards the plane when the stairwell detached from the side and extended itself down to her. Beck faltered momentarily when a large, burly man in a navy blue Kevlar vest appeared in the jet's doorway.</p>
<p>"Credentials, ma'am?" He called down to her.</p>
<p>Beck rolled her eyes and adjusted the strap of her bag on her arm. "Seriously?"</p>
<p>He shrugged, but she could tell he was probably enjoying giving her a hard time. Men like him with the over-sized arms that looked like legs and a superiority complex with a need to reaffirm their power over anyone and everyone they meet tended to do that. She just didn't feel like putting up with it today.</p>
<p>Beck waltzed up the jet stairwell, her hand slipping into her back pocket to pull out her old CIA badge. She flashed it at him and watched as his smug smirk slowly dissipated to a more tame and serious frown. He let out a heavy sigh, cocking his head to gesture for her to go ahead. "Nice to finally meet you, Agent Ryder... or should I say 'Captain' since you are technically in charge here now?" He prompted as she brushed past him to get inside the jet cabin.</p>
<p>Inside, it was cooler than the humid Florida air she'd just walked in from. The cabin was fairly large even for such a small aircraft. There were five other men already seated inside, manila folders with pictures and files inside in front of them and large bags of equipment and weaponry at their feet. A few of them glanced up to study her as she entered, but a few of them kept focused on the files.</p>
<p>"It's just Agent Ryder," Beck corrected Mr. Muscle behind her. Speaking of, she probably couldn't be calling him Mr. Muscle in the field. "And what do they call you?" She asked from over her shoulder as she took a seat among the other members of her new team that didn't look exactly comfortable with having a short little Asian girl as tall as only one of their legs being their new team captain.</p>
<p>After closing up the jet door, Mr. Muscle came to take a seat across from Beck. "I'm Agent Reece Waters." Beck nodded, her eyes trailing away to the other men around her.</p>
<p>They were silent until Agent Waters slapped the burlier man with a short beard across the aisle with his eyes glued to his dismantled gun in front of him he'd been cleaning. "Watch it," he grumbled. He reluctantly glanced up at Beck and gave a half-hearted smirk. "My name's Buckley Reynolds, but I go by QB."</p>
<p>Beck nodded her head. "Quarterback?"</p>
<p>"The one and only," he replied smugly. "And that there is Glenn Monroe-" Beck followed his pointed gaze the a ginger man with a buzz-cut and clear-rimmed glasses in the back of the jet who briefly nodded his head to her in acknowledgement. "-Beside him is Joseph Johnson, but everyone calls him Jo Jo-" Sure enough, seated across from Agent Monroe was a smaller uniformed man with a hard facial expression and a scar just above his left, furrowed eyebrow. "-And finally, we got our very own tech wizard, RJ Willis." It looked as though QB was pointing to his leather seat behind him until a man with a file in his hands turned the corner and gave his new Captain a stiff wave.</p>
<p><em>Friendly</em>. Beck thought to herself as she shifted in her cushioned seat just as the sound of the jet's engine starting up sent chills down her spine. <em>Great</em>, she let out a soft hiss beneath her breath as she mentally began to prepare herself for this quick trip through the air.</p>
<p>Agent Waters, seated adjacent of her, must've noticed how her fingers shook ever so slightly as she quickly pulled on her seat belt over her middle by the way he smirked at her. "Afraid of flying, Agent Ryder?"</p>
<p>Beck's jaw clenched. It was no question; Beck was terrified of flying and had been since a near-death experience she had at the age of 12 when her foster dad and former Air Force pilot, General Ryder, had taken her and her older foster brother, Jacob, for a quick flight over the Northwest Texas planes in a single-engine plane he'd owned since he graduated officer's school decades before. It had been going fine until something had gone wrong with the propeller at the front of the plane and they ended up having to make a crash landing in some random corn field.</p>
<p>Beck only remembered tidbits of the memory. The therapist she'd had to see the following months after the accident had took note of the fact that she'd somehow suppressed the gruesome experience from her mind as some sort of coping mechanism. But... every once and a while, Beck would wake up in a sweaty heap from her bed crying after having the same repetitive nightmare of that day. The memory of her blood-curdling screams and cries for help in a burning field of corn, her leg throbbing from the piece of metal lodged into the back of her calf, the sweat, dirt, ash and blood mixed with the tears falling down her cheeks, and her throat sore and lungs exhausted from all her screeching into what felt like a void of nothingness as the world burned around her seared into her mind that still kept her away from planes and jets alike.</p>
<p>Agent Waters looked almost pleased to see he'd hit a nerve with his new Captain as Beck's fingers clawed into her armrests when the jet gave a good shake as it began to gain speed, launching itself across the runway.</p>
<p>"Leave 'er alone, Waters," QB has grumbled from across the aisle. "You didn't give RJ trouble about his thing with caves after what happened in Washington." Beck wasn't paying attention to whatever conversation was ensuing, her mind too focused on maintaining a level head as she felt the solid feeling of ground beneath the metal death machine fade away as they took off into the sky, but she thought she heard some huff something from the next few seats over. "Exactly," QB continued. "So stop being a prick because we've got a girl in charge now."</p>
<p>"Whatever," Waters grumbled beneath his breath as he turned from QB back to the files on the table between him and Beck.</p>
<p>Beck though that would be the end of it until Monroe chuckled from the seats behind Waters. "And stop being a whiny bitch, Reece," he shouted from over the cushioned seats. Beck couldn't help the stiff smile that escaped from her lips as the jet shook the higher they went. She didn't even wanna look out the window to her right.</p>
<p>"Yeah," Jo Jo piped up as well. "Let's not forget that of the people here, she's the only one that was personally asked by the Unit's Section Chief. That's gotta hold some weight behind it." There was a hum of agreements across the cabin, and while Waters could only begrudgingly glare at her from over the manila folder, Beck was too busy trying to keep count of her breaths until they would eventually land in DC.</p>
<p>While she waited through the agonizing hours in the air, Beck decided to try to take her mind off things by reading through the information packet that had been thrown together for them.</p>
<p>
  <em>Senior Supervisory Special Agent Jason Gideon of the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the Federal Investigation Bureau.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Suspected of Homicide in the first degree.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Victim: Sarah Jacobs.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Found in the master bedroom of Gideon's DC apartment, laid out on the bed brutally mutilated in the chest, stomach, and neck area.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Cause of death: blood loss and major organ failure.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Gideon is on the run from the law and cannot be found.</em>
</p>
<p>Beck frowned.</p>
<p>These were the puzzle pieces she was given. They just didn't seem to fit together. Something was wrong... or missing. Aside from Gideon, that was.</p>
<p>Beck didn't really know Gideon too well. Then again, she also thought she knew Bruno Hawks well enough. Maybe there was something she could salvage from who he was as a person.</p>
<p>She knew Gideon had seen some shit. The files had listed a few other incidents and psych evaluations he himself had to go through that even she thought sounded pretty brutal. She figured someone damaged as much as either of them was capable of anything really. But... apparently, Gideon knew this woman. Sarah Jacobs. Old school classmates, according to the files. They seemed to be close, she was at his apartment for a reason, Beck had to assume. But what would be the factor in Gideon wanting to murder this woman? He had to have a definite reason, he wasn't some loose cannon no matter how much shit he'd seen in his years. He wasn't a psycho killer, but he had the potential to be. And apparently his Section Chief thought the same thing when she hired Beck.</p>
<p>"We're landing in ten," QB exclaimed as he settled himself back into his seat, buckling his seatbelt. Beck had kept hers on the entirety of the flight, but still felt the need to fasten it before shoving the files back into the bag that they'd come in.</p>
<p>Waters had noticed the way she had discarded the files and raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You don't wanna keep those in case you missed something important?" He prompted her.</p>
<p>Beck glanced up at the Agent and gave him a smug smile. "I never miss," she replied simply.</p>
<p>Eventually, the plane came to a halting stop against the concrete runway of the Ronald Reagan Airport. It was still the middle of the night and the lights of the city below were as bright as could be, but Beck couldn't bother to look out the window.</p>
<p>After waiting on the runway for a few minutes following the landing, they eventually pulled into the plane hangar. The team was out of the plane cabin and into two separate cars within minutes. As she made her way to the two large black SUV's, Waters halted her briefly with a hand on her arm.</p>
<p>She turned on him quickly. "What?"</p>
<p>She was a bit surprised when he handed her a large case. "I was told you may be needing this." Beck carefully took the case from his hand and held it up to inspect. "A little big don't you think?" She couldn't help but roll her eyes at his remark before turning on her heel and continuing the walk to the car. She was starting to understand where Gideon might've been coming from if he had killed this woman. People were annoying and maybe one day she too would just snap.</p>
<p>When she got into the backseat of the first SUV, she set her case on her lap and carefully opened the latches to glance at it's contents. Inside there sat two large pieces of her iconic M95 rifle she'd first been assigned when she joined the CTU. She'd affectionately named the rifle Alice after her favorite character in her favorite childhood movie her brother had watched with her many times when she'd gotten sick or just to pass the time. And, boy, had it been some time.</p>
<p>"So, where to, Captain?" Monroe called to her from the driver's seat.</p>
<p>Beck carefully shut the case again and locked the hinges. "Jason Gideon's apartment. Step on it, will you, Monroe?" She answered.</p>
<p>Beside her, Jo Jo took notice of the large gun inside the case she'd held onto. "You planning on using that, Captain?"</p>
<p>Beck turned to him and shrugged. "Can't be too careful."</p>
<p>There was only mild traffic as Monroe sped through the streets of Metro DC. Unlike the plane ride, Beck took the time to look out the window as they sped through the city. The way to Gideon's apartment was going in the opposite direction of Beck's old apartment, but the city itself was still familiar. The historical street names Beck had memorized within her first week of living there, a few familiar coffee shops she'd visited during her weekend vacations between cases at the CTU, the museum she'd accidentally broken into on one of her benders a few years back, even the old drug store she used to jog to in the early hours of the day that was run by an almost equally as old Vietnamese woman who always loved gossiping about her other regulars. It was all too familiar to be back in the city. Nostalgic even.</p>
<p>"We're nearing the crime scene, boss. What do I tell the local badge?" Monroe asked as they approached the barricade of police cars blocking the street going towards the apartment building.</p>
<p>Beck peeked her head out from behind the seat and shrugged. "Show 'em yours."</p>
<p>He chuckled beneath his breath. As they pulled in, he rolled the window down and flashed his FBI badge. "Tactical Team sent by the BAU Section Chief Erin Strauss. Special orders and clearance to investigate the murder of Sarah Jacobs," he explained to the officer that stopped them at the yellow tape.</p>
<p>The officer seemed to speak with someone on his radio momentarily. He eventually nodded for them to go through, even moving the yellow tape to let them in. Monroe slowly drove the car through the maze of other cop cares until stopping just outside the bustling entrance of the building.</p>
<p>Beck was the first one out of the car. She left her case, but made sure to fashion the pistol she always carried just beneath the jacket on the back of her right hip. She took it out of it's strap to examine it, taking out and putting the magazine of bullets back in as the rest of her new team exited the other SUV to gather around where she was.</p>
<p>"Alright," she began slowly now that she had their attention. "Keep your distance from one another, we don't want too much attention drawn to ourselves. If local badge gives you any trouble, tell them to go fuck themselves- you've got a job to do and I don't feel like having any petty territorial arguments with beat cops tonight."</p>
<p>QB snorted. "I think I'm starting to like you, Little Dragon."</p>
<p>Beck gave him a pointed look before turning back to the rest of the team and continuing her directions. "It's in and out. We're just here to check out the scene, talk to any witnesses there might've been, maybe go interview his team to see if there was anywhere Gideon might've gone. If anyone knows, it has to be one of them."</p>
<p>That was going to be a little awkward, not to mention difficult. Also, now that she was thinking about it, pretty ironic considering the fact that the last time she'd seen or spoken to anyone from the BAU, they had been the ones investigating her and her team... Oh, how the tables had turned.</p>
<p>"Alright, <em>Captain</em>," Waters uttered the title in disdain. "Any idea of who's doing what?"</p>
<p>She rolled her eyes at his antics. "Well, Waters, since you want to continue acting like a bitter toddler, you've got babysitting duty. Go check with any cops and find out who the witnesses on the street were and what they saw." He looked like he wanted to say something back, but bit his tongue. Satisfied with the reaction, she moved onto the rest of the men around her. "Willis, check any and all security or street cameras that might've caught Gideon coming or going from off the street. There aren't a lot of back alleys around this part of DC, so you're bound to come up with something. Jo Jo, Monroe- you've got canvas duty. Pack up any other physical evidence that might reveal the nature in which Jacobs was killed or any clues Gideon might've let slip that could lead us to where he's headed."</p>
<p>All the men nodded collectively before gathering their own sets of gear and walking off in their separate directions to perform their tasks. QB, however, stayed put right beside her. "Guess that leaves us, Captain," he stated.</p>
<p>"Guess so," she cheekily replied as she began walking towards the entrance, QB loosely following behind.</p>
<p>"Any idea of what we're getting into?" He asked as they walked past all the cops at the door and through the yellow tape to get to the elevator.</p>
<p>Beck let out a heavy sigh as she hit the third floor button. "Not a clue..."</p>
<p>"You've never done this kind of investigative work before? I'm shocked, especially after that debrief back there."</p>
<p>"Well, I wouldn't say it's my first time investigating anything," she replied as the doors began to close and the elevator jerked upwards. "This is just... my first murder case. Like- basic, cut and dry murder."</p>
<p>QB furrowed his eyebrows. "There's more to murder than just the basic kind?"</p>
<p>Beck couldn't help the humorless laugh that escaped her lips as the elevator dang and the doors slid open. "You've got no idea, QB."</p>
<p>When they entered the hallway leading to the apartment, it was even more crowded than the entrance and the street down below. There were cops with cameras, baggies of evidence walking in and out, a few more cops just standing around or talking with other neighbors that seemed to be itching for details about what happened. And they weren't the only ones.</p>
<p>Almost immediately after entering the bustling apartment, her eyes seemed to find the BAU Unit Chief sticking out in the sea of navy blue and black as natural as a flower turning towards the sun. It was kind of hard not to. The guy and his team were really the only ones not in uniform. Beside SSA Hotchner (as she recalled his name to be) were a series of other agents, some familiar, others not.</p>
<p>There was a blonde and a brunette Beck had never seen before, and she vividly remembered that colorful (bitch) Agent Greenaway. Neither of these women were her, thank goodness. Beck probably couldn't take another case with her involved.</p>
<p>Despite the two women not being familiar, the two men beside Agent Hotchner were however very familiar. On one side of him was the balding and muscular Agent Morgan. The same agent that was with her when she'd held Hassan Nadir at gunpoint only to shoot up at the sky instead of murdering a key witness to Bruno Hawks' crimes. And, finally, on the other side of him was the Revolver Kid- <em>'Dr. Spencer Reid of the Behavioral Analysis Unit'.</em></p>
<p>"Agent Ryder," the name left his mouth as if he had never forgotten it. Which was surprising, she barely remembered what he had looked like in the year that they had last seen one another. All she recognized about him was the ridiculous way he held his revolver on his hip and how prominent his cheekbones were. Only this time, instead of a revolver he actually had a pistol. Progress, she figured.</p>
<p>The team turned in the direction he was looking, turned to look at her. Hotchner narrowed his eyes at her as if he was sizing her up. She figured he had been in this line of work long enough to know why she was there. "Agent," he greeted her shortly. "We thought you were with the Counterterrorism Unit still."</p>
<p>"I quit. Call me a freelancer," she replied, equally as stiff and short with her answer. She turned to QB. "Go see what they have on evidence from the body." He nodded, giving a weary glance at the team in front of her before reluctantly leaving her side.</p>
<p>"Freelancer?" Agent Morgan's face was scrunched up in confusion. "Who hired you?"</p>
<p>Beck was taken aback by his question. They didn't know. "Your... Your Section Chief gave me a call," she answered. "Erin Strauss. Name sound familiar?"</p>
<p>She watched the agents all share a look of agitation. Hmm. Apparently they did.</p>
<p>"So, anything you can tell me about... <em>that</em>?" She pointed in the direction of the bed a few yards away splattered in blood and chunks of flesh around the human body lying on top of it in the center of the room. God, that was a mess... She'd seen worse.</p>
<p>"Gideon didn't do this, Ryder, you have to believe that," Hotchner stated matter-of-factly.</p>
<p>"Actually, I only have to believe what's in front of me and what's in front of me is a dead woman on Jason Gideon's bed. So if you can't give me anything other than what I'm seeing, then- excuse me, but I have a job to finish."</p>
<p>"Captain." Beck glanced over her shoulder at the sound of her new title being called. Waters and Willis both stood at the apartment entrance, a tablet raised in Willis' hand. "We've got something for you."</p>
<p>Beck turned back to the BAU agents in front of her and grimaced. Agent Morgan smirked, "'Captain?'"</p>
<p>She rolled her eyes. "It's temporary," she vaguely explained before walking off towards Willis and Waters. "What do you have for me, boys?"</p>
<p>Willis handed her the tablet. "Got this on security feed."</p>
<p>Beck took the tablet and pressed play on the video footage she'd just been handed. The camera was pointed on the dimly lit street corner that they'd pulled into earlier to get to the apartment. A few moments passed before an odd man approached a young boy on a skateboard, he whispered something in his ear before walking off. A few minutes after that, another man came dashing down the street, blood splattered on his clothes and hands. "Gideon..."</p>
<p>"Yeah, he ran off in a hurry. On foot, too," Waters noted. "Probably hasn't gotten very far. I sent Jo Jo and Monroe to go help the local badge set up a perimeter-"</p>
<p>Beck's eyes shot up to him in a deadly glare. "You did <em>what</em>?"</p>
<p>"I sent them to go hunt the bastard that did this," the agent replied nonchalantly. "What? Not used to things being so fast-paced?"</p>
<p>Beck clenched her fist, fighting the <em>very</em> strong urge she had to punch that smug look from off his oval-shaped face. She took a careful step forward and leaned up on her toes to try and close the almost two foot height difference between them. "If you ever go above my head and give orders to people under my command, I'll kick you to the fucking curb," she whispered to him in a calm and collective voice before backing away again. She turned to Willis. "Run facial recognition on the two other people in those frames and widen your search to any other cameras going that direction. And you-" she pointed to Waters. "Go with him and stay the hell out of my sight before I take away yours."</p>
<p>Waters clenched his jaw. He looked like he wanted to punch her just as much as she wanted to punch him. But after a pointed look from both herself and Willis, Waters caved and turned on his heel to walk out, Willis not far behind him.</p>
<p>Beck stood there for a moment, just staring after them. The frustration still boiling her blood from Waters' action. That bastard. If there was something she hated more than being disobeyed- it was <em>men </em>disobeying and discrediting her because they had a problem with authority- specifically <em>female </em>authority. He would be lucky to get out of this case without at least one black eye because she was certain that if he kept this behavior up, he would be the next dead body on their hands.</p>
<p>She took a deep breath to try and calm her thoughts.</p>
<p>"Captain." QB was hesitant to approach her, he could clearly see her anger and frustration. "Everything alright?"</p>
<p>"Fine," she replied. "You got anything?"</p>
<p>"Yeah. This." Beck narrowed her eyes at the small baggie he held up for her. Inside was a bloody mess... "Is that...?"</p>
<p>"A rib bone? As crazy as it is- yes," he answered her unspoken question. "Found it in the lady's left hand."</p>
<p>"She was holding her own rib? It was placed there? Purposefully?"</p>
<p>QB nodded. "Seems that way."</p>
<p>Beck spun around, her eyes scanning the room for the BAU agents, but unsurprising- they were nowhere to be seen. They'd left... Oh, they definitely knew something. "Gideon didn't do this," she stated, turning back to QB and handing him back the baggie.</p>
<p>"How can you be so sure?"</p>
<p>"That-" she gestured to the rib. "Is a signature. The signature of a murderer who knows what he's doing and to who. It's not Jason Gideon- it's someone trying to frame him. Or send a message to him."</p>
<p>"Well... message received, I guess... What are we gonna do?"</p>
<p>Beck began walking out the door, QB quick on her trail. <em>"You</em> are going to give that back to forensics. I also want a toxicology report on Jacobs as soon as you can."</p>
<p>QB paused at the apartment door. "Alright. What are <em>you </em>going to do?"</p>
<p>"Make a few calls- first to Jo Jo and Monroe about a little thing called 'chain of command,'" she called from over her shoulder as she disappeared down the hall and turned the corner to the elevator.</p>
<p>
  <em>—</em>
</p>
<p>After rallying her troops back to her, she had them meet her at the local precinct where the cops and detectives there had already set the team up with their own office and conference room.</p>
<p>Beck had had QB, Waters and Willis drive her there and they all sat and waited patiently for Jo Jo and Monroe to get there. While they waited, Beck had Willis scavenge the web and the FBI database for anything he could find on the signature of the rib being ripped out of a mutilated and drugged woman or man.</p>
<p>"It's going to be a recent case. Specifically one the BAU dealt with," Beck was explaining to him as she herself sorted through physical files the local badge had provided for her, though she doubted she'd find anything she needed from them. It just gave her something to do. "Gideon must've pissed this guy off pretty well for him to come back and get some kind of twisted revenge. We just have to find out who he is and what he wants."</p>
<p>"Well, what he wants is revenge. Didn't he already get it by killing this Gideon guys girlfriend?" Waters suggests.</p>
<p>Beck glares at him. "I'm going to assume you've never actually had to put much thought into anything other than how to gel your hair in the morning, so I'll excuse the blatant lack of any real intelligence in that statement for the time being," she bluntly stated, going back to her files in front of her. "But to answer the question- no. This man is a serial killer and from the manner of death Sara Jacobs suffered, a very psychotic and experienced one. Whoever this man is, isn't afraid to kill, and since he's on the run still, probably won't just stop at Sarah Jacobs. He didn't kill her for revenge, he killed her to get attention. He killed her to send a message."</p>
<p>"Which is why he left the rib in her hand," QB piped up. "He knew the BAU team would see his signature and know who is he."</p>
<p>"And what he wants." Beck shook her head as she aimlessly flipped through more files.</p>
<p>The silence in the room was suddenly broken when Willis threw a fist up in victory. "Got him!" The rest of the agents immediately perked up. Beck leaned forward in her seat, the file in her hand discarded as Willis made his way around the table to place his laptop screen in front of her to see. "Frank. No last name, but they've got footage of him in a diner in Golconda, Nevada a few months back. That's where the BAU intercepted him, but never actually caught him due to an incident with him abducting a bunch of kids in exchange for some woman. Jane Hanratty," he explained as he scrolled through the screen. He previewed the footage of this man, Frank, in a diner sitting across from someone she recognized to be Gideon, then the picture of Jane Hanratty.</p>
<p>"His signature?"</p>
<p>"Mutilated bodies... I mean- shit- cutting them up into pieces, dumping them across the desert. The BAU found that he'd been saving a piece and sending them to this lady, Jane since '77."</p>
<p>"'77?" Waters asked in disbelief. "You mean to tell me this sick fuck has been murdering people since the 70's?"</p>
<p>Willis nodded. "Before that, too. He's, apparently, one of the most prolific serial killers in the U.S."</p>
<p>Beck zoomed in on the picture of Frank in the diner some more. He looked oddly familiar. "Lemme guess... Frank here was the same guy we saw on the surveillance footage talking to that kid outside of Gideon's apartment, isn't he?"</p>
<p>"I just ran facial recognition."</p>
<p>Beck glanced up at him. "A match?"</p>
<p>He nodded. "99.6 percent match."</p>
<p>"And no clue about what this guy's last name is? Where he's from? How old he is? Any direct family members?"</p>
<p>Willis shrugged. "Zip. Zilch. Nada. Nothing."</p>
<p>"Alright," she sighed. "What about Jane? You got anything on her?"</p>
<p>"Actually... I do," he replied, taking the laptop back and hitting a few buttons. "Bingo- I found her."</p>
<p>QB leaned forward in his seat. "Where is she?"</p>
<p>"Downstairs," he answered with a grimace.</p>
<p>Beck, Waters and QB all glanced at him with looks of confusion. "She's... downstairs?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, beat cops picked her up a few hours ago. Facial recognition puts it at a 98.4 percent match that the woman they have in lockup downstairs is her."</p>
<p>Beck, Waters and QB were abruptly up from their seats and out of the room. It was a short jog downstairs from the conference room to the small jail cells that they kept the arrested.</p>
<p>The beat cop at the door stood up when he saw them running towards the cells, his eyes wide and his hands up. "Woah, woah, woah, woah- you guys can't be down here-"</p>
<p>Beck slapped her FBI clearance badge into his chest, her other hand coming up to swipe the cell keys from off his belt in the same swift motion as her and her team passed. When she got to the first few cells in linked fences, she couldn't see the messy blonde head of hair she'd seen in the pictures of Jane Hanratty. Then she heard the shouting from down the hall.</p>
<p>"Hello?! Help! Agent Gideon! <em>Agent Gideon</em>!"</p>
<p>"That sounds like our lady," QB remarked as they grew closer, Beck and Waters breaking out into a sprint to make it to the cell.</p>
<p>Beck slid to a halting stop in front of the last jail cell full of other women, but one stood out. Literally and figuratively. She stood in the middle of the cell, her ragged clothing more fitting to a grandmother than a cell inmate. Though, to be fair, she was probably around the age that a grandmother would be. Crazy blonde hair and all.</p>
<p>"Jane Hanratty?" Beck greeted her in a soft, tentative voice.</p>
<p>The blonde turned to her, her pale blue eyes narrowed in curiosity. She must not have been used to being recognized. "Who are you?"</p>
<p>"My name is Agent Ryder... I'm a friend of Agent Gideon's," she explained. "Can you come with me so we can talk about Frank?"</p>
<p>She nodded frantically. "Okay."</p>
<p>Beck nodded back, her fingers swinging the keys into her grip to unlock the cell gate. The gate swung open and Beck held her hand out for Jane to follow as a guide. She did.</p>
<p>"Where's Agent Gideon?" She asked as Beck led her away from the cell and down the hall towards the interrogation rooms.</p>
<p>"He'll be with us when we get to the room," Beck lied with ease. "Is there something you needed to tell him, Jane?"</p>
<p>"That he was right."</p>
<p>Beck turned to Jane, her face contorted with confusion. "About what?"</p>
<p>"That Frank can't feel love," she answered in a shaky voice. "He wants to, but he can't..." Beck threw a concerned look over her shoulder at Waters and QB as they made their way to the interrogation room just up ahead.</p>
<p>Once Beck was able to lead Jane inside, she led her to the chair just beside the table. There were handcuffs on the counter, but Beck figured she wouldn't be needing them. Jane was clearly deranged, but she knew enough to prove useful and was smart enough not to try and escape. In fact, she seemed eager to help. Desperate almost.</p>
<p>"Alright, we're gonna seat you right here, ma'am," QB exclaimed as he held the chair out for Jane. She was hesitant, but took a seat, watching both QB and Waters with wide and weary eyes, scared that they might do something to her. Unsurprisingly, she didn't react the same way to Beck.</p>
<p>"Ryder." She turned to see both Jo Jo and Monroe at the door. "You got BAU agents here," Jo Jo explained.</p>
<p>"We saw them on our way in," Monroe added.</p>
<p>Beck glanced back at Jane who was calm enough to stay seated and not react. She was good where she was, Beck figured before turning back to her team. "Waters, QB, standby in the lobby. Jo Jo, Monroe, go help Willis with gathering anything and everything on the serial killer Frank upstairs."</p>
<p>"Yes, Captain." The chorus of them said before going their separate ways like they had at the apartment.</p>
<p>Jane didn't speak until the last of the team had shut the door behind them. "Can I get my bag and cigarettes, please?"</p>
<p>Beck turned to nod at her. "Of course. I'll go get those for you right now. Just sit tight, please." She quickly turned to leave the room, but halted when she heard Jane utter, "He'll come for me."</p>
<p>The brunette turned back to face her. "He's already here."</p>
<p>Beck quickly left the room after that, turning to Waters and QB that were waiting outside. "She wants her bag of belongings and some cigs. You mind getting those while I deal with the BAU?"</p>
<p>Waters and QB simultaneously nodded. "Knock yourself out, Little Dragon," QB said as he left. "Holler if you need a hand dealing with the agents or the nutjob, yeah?"</p>
<p>Beck snorted slightly, watching them as they disappeared down the hall and then crossing her arms when she spotted the BAU Agents approaching. It was Revolver Kid- <em>Dr. Reid</em>- and the brunette that she hadn't recognized from Gideon's apartment.</p>
<p>"Agents," she greeted them curtly. "Thanks for filling me in on evidence and recent developments in the investigation. Really helped me figure out who actually killed Sarah Jacobs."</p>
<p>Dr. Reid grimaced. "We wanted to give Gideon time," he told her honestly.</p>
<p>"Time to what?"</p>
<p>"Figure out where Frank was. How to stop him," the brunette answered for him.</p>
<p>Beck worriedly glanced between the brunette and the doctor. "Stop him from what?"</p>
<p>"He's taken a girl... One of the saved victims from another case," Dr. Reid stated. "We think Jane can help us figure out where he could be keeping her, but..."</p>
<p>Beck bit the inside of her cheek. "You need my clearance to speak to my material witness where I have jurisdiction over the investigation," she finished for him. His eyes silently pleaded for her to agree. She couldn't help but think back to the incident with Hawks. How much he helped her... She sighed and jerked her head in the direction of the door. "She's all yours, but I'm gonna listen in, if you don't mind."</p>
<p>"Thank you," the brunette said, brushing past her to get inside the room.</p>
<p>When she had left Beck glanced up at the doctor again. "Next time you have important information to relay about a case we're both working on, it'd be nice if you told me, <em>Doctor</em>."</p>
<p>"Well, I doubt we'll be working on many cases after this one," he replied, matter-of-factly. "But if we ever do, I'll keep it in mind, <em>Captain</em>."</p>
<p>Beck fought the urge to roll her eyes. She knew he was probably just doing what he was told when keeping her in the dark. Besides, she didn't actually blame him. He was only covering for one of his fellow team members. Not that she understood the concept of risking your ass for a team member. She wasn't programmed that way, to think for and about others close to her. But she couldn't deny that Dr. Reid had a strong bond with Gideon and probably had a closer bond than she ever had, maybe even rivaling how her and Hawks were in the beginning.</p>
<p>"So... you left the CTU?" Beck raised her eyebrow at him in skepticism. Was she a suspect or something? "Sorry. Just trying to make conversation while we wait for Hotch," Dr. Reid grimaced.</p>
<p>Beck turned back to face the double-sided mirror where Jane was talking with the brunette inside. Jane was up and pacing now, demanding for her belongings and something to smoke. "Yeah, I left the night you put Hawks away," she answered his initial question. "You stayed with the BAU, I see."</p>
<p>"Uh, yeah..."</p>
<p>The shorter woman had to crane her neck to glance back at him. "That wasn't a vey enthusiastic answer," she noted. "I'm assuming we had a very different year apart."</p>
<p>Dr. Reid stared down at his feet, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. A clear tell. "I guess so."</p>
<p>She didn't push much after that. Not that she had to anyway, because coming down the hall towards them were the blonde from the crime scene, a brown bag and a pack of cigarettes in her hand. "Is she in there?" The woman asked the pair.</p>
<p>"Yeah... The only things she's been asking for are her smokes, her belongings and Gideon, of course," Beck replied. "Where'd you get those?"</p>
<p>She shrugged. "Your guys gave them to me. They said they got a hit on something and they'd check in with you when they got back." Fucking Waters, Beck wanted to curse. She was going to wring his fucking neck when they 'checked in with her' again.</p>
<p>The blonde nodded to the pair before walking into the room. Inside, Jane quickly snatched the cigarettes and her bag from the blonde agent. Beck chuckled. Jane was an irony in herself, wasn't she. Innocent, almost childlike. Yet, associating herself with such a sick and twisted person like whoever this Frank was.</p>
<p>"Tell us something good, Reid." Both the doctor and the agent turned at the sound of Agent Morgan and Agent Hotchner entering the hallway coming towards them. The minute Hotchner's eyes landed on Beck, they hardened. Her gaze quickly turned to a glare. He was the one to give the orders to keep her in the dark, of course.</p>
<p>"Well," the doctor began. "We have Jane." He gestured to the scene behind the mirror.</p>
<p>Hotchner nodded, his gaze leaving Beck to glance at his agent. "That's good," he remarked.</p>
<p>"Not exactly," Beck chimed in. "She's not making much sense, nor is she being cooperative." She glanced over her shoulder at Hotchner. "She's insisting on talking to Agent Gideon."</p>
<p>"You found her?" Agent Morgan prompted.</p>
<p>"Yeah. Cracked everything wide open after my guys found the rib in Jacobs' hand. Wasn't too hard to piece things together after that- thanks for the help, though," Beck retorted sarcastically, throwing a pointed look to the Unit Chief before turning her attention back to Jane behind the glass once more.</p>
<p>Hotchner ignored her jab and took the time to go inside the room, going almost unnoticed by Jane whose attention was solely on the blonde and brunette in front of her. "Frank hasn't hurt anyone, has he? He wouldn't do that. Not while he has me," she insisted to the two agents as Hotchner entered the room.</p>
<p>"He doesn't have you. We do," the blonde told her matter-of-factly.</p>
<p>Without taking her eyes off the people behind the glass, she whispered to the two BAU agents beside her, "So, what's the relationship between Jane and Frank? It was all kind of vague in the files. Something about him gifting her rib bones...?"</p>
<p>"Jane was originally almost a victim herself, but for reasons not completely known, Frank spared her and came back to visit her every year after that. Sending her the rib bones from his other victims as tokens of affection for her," Dr. Reid explained to her.</p>
<p>From beside him, Morgan summarized, "They're in love."</p>
<p>"Yeah, but... from the looks of the crime scene and the way all his victims were killed... he's clearly a psychopath," Beck noted. "Is it really love at all if he can't feel anything?"</p>
<p>Both Dr. Reid and Agent Morgan turned to look at her. "You got all that from the files?"</p>
<p>She shrugged. "You tend to pick up on certain behaviors over the years with the CIA."</p>
<p>They began talking on the other side of the glass again and Beck couldn't help but give this interrogation her full attention once again. "Why did you leave Frank?" The brunette agent asked Jane, her voice soft and calm just like Beck had used on Jane to coax her out of the cell with ease. "What... changed?"</p>
<p>Jane, who had now taken a seat across from her, seemed to deliberate the question for a moment before glancing back up at her, her eyes filled with concern as she answered simply: "He did. Frank changed. He changed just like Agent Gideon said." Or he was just always the same and used her as a scape goat for something... But for what- Beck couldn't quite figure it out. "And he was so angry with Agent Gideon because he knows Frank better than anyone else and Frank knows that, too."</p>
<p>"Would explain a second motive for killing Jacobs," Beck muttered. "He wants Gideon's full attention. He wants to get under his skin like he did with him."</p>
<p>Back inside the room, Hotchner finally decided to speak up from where he stood leaning against the wall nearby. "Frank wants Agent Gideon to stop him, doesn't he?" Apparently, Beck and Hotchner were on a similar wavelength. Beck wasn't sure if she liked it.</p>
<p>"Well, if anyone can, Agent Gideon can," Jane exclaimed.</p>
<p>"Not without you, Jane."</p>
<p>The blonde turned away from the brunette agent to glance up at Hotchner, confusion written all over her face as her eyebrows furrowed beneath her messy bangs. "What do you mean?"</p>
<p>"We need your help to stop Frank, Jane."</p>
<p>She contemplated his answer, but was suddenly very focused on going through her bag of belongings. Clearly, she wanted nothing to do with this. She didn't want to betray this man she thought she loved, but she also didn't want him to continue killing. Beck had to wonder if maybe it was because of her own accord or his... What were her intentions when it came to Frank? And what were his attentions when it came to Jane? They were both so... complicated.</p>
<p>"Tell me about Frank. Where's he from?" Hotchner asked her in that same emotionless, monotone voice.</p>
<p>Jane ignored him at first, continuing to unpack her shoes from her bag and slamming them on the table in front of her. When she was done, she pulled another cigarette from the pack she'd been given earlier. Her lips were drawn in a thin line as she reluctantly gave him an answer. "Manhattan."</p>
<p>Hotchner furrowed his eyebrows. "Manhattan? You sure?"</p>
<p>"Yes, I'm sure!" She snapped at him. Her attention then turned back to the woman in front of her, her tone changing to more of a light-hearted and informative one as she recalled her time with her psychopathic... boyfriend? "He talked about it all the time. He told me where he lived and how he grew up- everything. He wanted me to know everything," she beamed.</p>
<p>"Did he ever say where in Manhattan?" The blonde agent asked her.</p>
<p>Jane's expression fell momentarily, but she was quick to go right back to talking with the brunette, acting as if no one else were in the room, just them. "He lived with his mother. She was German," she stated matter-of-factly. "Breitkopf. Mary Breitkopf. And Frank never knew his father."</p>
<p>Beck quickly pulled out her phone and pulled up Willis' contact she'd added hours ago on the plane ride over. She texted him the name Mary Breitkopf with the note: <em>find where she lived.</em></p>
<p>"So, he uses his mother's name?" The brunette prompted her.</p>
<p>Jane nodded. "Mmhmm. And she would take him every Sunday to the fair on Long Island," she exclaimed as she stood to her feet, a smile gracing her face once more. This woman was like a rollercoaster when it came to Frank, it seemed. "He talked about her constantly. And they would have dinner parties, and- and Frank would dress up, and he would be the barman, and he would serve all the guests cocktails." She laughed as she made a gesture as though she herself were carrying drinks on a tray. She almost made it sound as though she were the one reliving the memory... As if she were Frank's mom...</p>
<p>"That's it."</p>
<p>Dr. Reid and Agent Morgan turned towards her again. "What's what?" Morgan asked.</p>
<p>"She's his scapegoat..."</p>
<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
<p>"He does love her... Just not in <em>that</em> way," Beck explained. "He spared her, he visited her, he gave her gifts, he escaped with her not because he's<em> in love</em> with her, but because he loves her as if she were his <em>mother</em>. She's his substitute. His scapegoat."</p>
<p>Agent Morgan and Dr. Reid exchanged similar looks. "That... actually makes sense."</p>
<p>Beck rolled her eyes, turning her back to the pair and turning her attention back to the interrogation where Jane was sitting back down now.</p>
<p>"When you were with Frank, did he ever hurt anyone else?" The blonde asked her.</p>
<p>Jane didn't answer. Only lit her cigarette, letting the smoke simmer around the room. She let her eyes travel back to the brunette across from her and she was back to telling her random stories. "Being on the run can be very romantic, you know," she told her in a whimsical voice.</p>
<p>"Did Frank try to kill anyone else?" The brunette repeated the blonde's question. Damn, Beck really needed to learn their names.</p>
<p>Once again, Jane didn't answer. She looked down then back up, her eyes wide with concern and a hint of regret. "Is it wrong?" She asked.</p>
<p>"Is what wrong?"</p>
<p>"Loving Frank." But did she... Did she really love him? He didn't really love her.</p>
<p>"Uh, you don't choose who you fall in love with," the brunette answered her. Beck rolled her eyes. What a load of bull.</p>
<p>Jane must've felt the same way because she turned her head and decided to take a hit from her cigarette just as Hotchner chimed in. "Maybe you thought you could change him. And you did, too, for a time."</p>
<p>She nodded in agreement. "Yes," her voice cracked.</p>
<p>"Until the desire to kill overwhelmed him," Hotchner continued. "And you saw that, didn't you, Jane? You saw it in him."</p>
<p>She nodded again. "Yes."</p>
<p>The brunette across from her leaned forward again. "Who did he try to kill?"</p>
<p>Beck didn't need to hear the answer, neither did anyone else in that room or even in that building. It was clear from her behavior and her light-hearted answers recalling all these good things about Frank what the answer to that specific question was.</p>
<p>"Me," Jane whispered to her. "But he stopped himself. We had an argument... And I screamed at him, and I said that Gideon was right, and he became so angry. And I had to run here... But as long as he's trying to find me, he won't kill again."</p>
<p>"He has already," Hotchner informed her.</p>
<p>Jane turned to face him just as the blonde beside him added, "And he's not gonna stop until he gets you back."</p>
<p>Jane looked so hurt as she gasped, "Oh-"</p>
<p>The brunette across from her shook her head and apologized, "I'm sorry." Jane hid her head in her hands as she turned away to cry silently to herself.</p>
<p>Beck sighed. She really was so blind to who Frank really was, once again proving her point. She didn't really love him. She had no perception of what love was. He had just manipulated her to feel something for him so he could continue his sick façade with her, and he lied and told her it was love.</p>
<p>"I've gotta go see about an address," Beck muttered, turning on her heel to head out the hallway to find her team. She shouldn't have been as surprised as she was to find them not waiting for her there, but already unpacking and loading up their tactical gear and weapons.</p>
<p>Waters, QB, Jo Jo, and Monroe were all in full tactical gear, their weapons out of their cases and in front of them on the table they had been using to sort through files earlier. Willis was off in the corner, typing away on his laptop and also in tactical gear.</p>
<p>No one seemed to have noticed her entrance until she made it known.</p>
<p>"What the hell is going on in here?"</p>
<p>The team all turned to look at her, QB seemed to shy away from her death glare, as did most everyone else except for Waters... of course. "We're getting ready for the raid," he calmly stated as if he were talking about the weather or some shit.</p>
<p>"Raid? What raid?" She asked. "Did Willis find Mary Breitkopf's address already?"</p>
<p>"What? No," he replied. "We got a hit on Gideon. Security cameras at the Smithsonian caught him and a blonde accomplice from the BAU sneaking inside and haven't been seen leaving since. We're on our way to apprehend the bastard since you're too busy playing Sherlock with the BAU."</p>
<p>Beck couldn't see anything but red. Oh, she was definitely going to kill this motherfucker now. "<em>Excuse me, </em>did the words 'commanding officer' just leave your internal brain encyclopedia or do I need to remind you whose orders you're to follow- <em>all of you</em>. In case you're so daft you're unable to guess the answer- it's mine. My team, my orders. Yet, you felt the need to go over my head and come up with your own completely incorrect crusade against an innocent man. Something you failed to understand because you don't actually care about accuracy, all you care about is being the one in charge. Which explains the little incident you had a few years ago that got you discharged from the Marines."</p>
<p>Waters immediately dropped his gun and took a threatening step towards the short woman, but she didn't budge. She didn't even flinch when QB and Monroe quickly stepped in to hold him back. The door behind her swung open then as Agents Morgan and Hotchner rushed in, clearly assessing the situation before them as one that was about to turn violent quickly.</p>
<p>"Woah, woah, woah, woah!" Morgan shouted as he helped QB and Monroe to hold Waters back from Beck, Hotchner using himself as a human shield between them. Beck wished they hadn't stepped in. She would've happily kicked Waters' ass.</p>
<p>The rest of the BAU agents were right behind them as they entered the conference room, unsure of what was going on but clearly too invested just to leave it alone.</p>
<p>Beck ignored them. Her eyes on Waters as she smiled up at him. "Yeah... I read up on you. All of you. Next time you get pissy about who's in charge, just remind yourself there's a reason why it isn't you," she taunted him.</p>
<p>"Whatever," Waters huffed, pushing away from QB, Monroe, and Agent Morgan, turning back to his rifle on the table. "We're finishing what we were hired to do: bring in Jason Gideon."</p>
<p>Beck made a split decision then and there as she ripped her gun from behind her back and aiming it directly between Waters' eyes. There were a series of shouts of protests. She could see Jo Jo, Monroe, QB, and Willis pulling their own guns out, aiming it in her general direction which resulted in the BAU agents brandishing their own weapons in retaliation. It was a stand-off.</p>
<p>"Drop it!" Agent Morgan ordered Jo Jo, who had his gun aimed at the back of Beck's head.</p>
<p>"Not until she drops hers," Monroe retorted, Dr. Reid's gun aimed at him while his was pointed at Hotchner.</p>
<p>"I'll drop my gun when Waters- and the rest of you- remember whose orders you're supposed to follow," Beck spat, her eyes boring into Waters' as she spoke. "You're <em>my </em>bitches, whether you like it or not. I think you forgot that during your failed attempt to the top, Waters. Because you were hired as the muscle and the muscle only." She pressed the barrel of her gun beneath his jaw, she could see the fear in his eyes as he lifted his head up at the motion. "Remember who holds the real power here. I will see to it that your career in private security is dwindled down to mall security. And let it be known that after this moment, the <em>only</em> reason you are still alive is because <em>I</em> was the one who let you stay that way."</p>
<p>"So let it be known to you and every other member of this team that we are going to find Mary Brietkopf's home address and find out where Frank Brietkopf is from there. Fail to do so and I won't hesitate to put a bullet through any of your brains and make it look like an accident," she stated, her eyes traveling through the room and glanced at every single member of the tactical team. "Understood?"</p>
<p>"Yes, ma'am," a series of voices chimed in unison.</p>
<p>She heard the sounds of guns slowly being lowered, but she kept hers to Waters' jaw as she turned back to him. "Understood?" She repeated in a low voice.</p>
<p>He swallowed. "Yes, ma'am..."</p>
<p>Beck removed the gun from his neck and put it back in it's holster. "Willis," she called to him. "Anything on Brietkopf yet?" She asked him as if they hadn't just been about to shoot one another.</p>
<p>"Uh... I got three names. One more likely than the other," he explained.</p>
<p>"Why's that?" The BAU brunette asked.</p>
<p>"Because she was arrested over 63 times, was an immigrant, and had a son named Frank Brietkopf," he said in a rush of words. "No death certificate."</p>
<p>Agent Morgan glanced at his boss beside him. "So, she's either dead-"</p>
<p>"Or alive and is being kept a secret by Frank," Hotchner finished his thought. "That's where he's keeping Tracey."</p>
<p>"Where did you say he wanted to meet to make the trade for Jane?" Beck asked the agent beside her.</p>
<p>"7 a.m.. Union Station," Dr. Reid recalled.</p>
<p>Beck turned to Monroe, Jo Jo and Willis. "You three, go to Breitkopf's last known address."</p>
<p>"JJ, Reid- go with them," Hotchner ordered the blonde and the Doctor.</p>
<p>"Waters, QB- with me at the station," she ordered before turning to Hotchner. "If... that's cleared with Agent Hotchner...?" Please say yes, she silently pleaded.</p>
<p>Hotchner pursed his lips as he deliberated for a moment. He sighed. "You're welcome to come along."</p>
<p>Beck nodded in gratitude just as Hotchner's phone began to ring.</p>
<p>The team watched as he answered, an unreadable expression crossing his face at whoever was on the other line. "I'll patch him in now," Hotchner told whoever it was on the other line. He pulled the phone back and dialed a second number. "Garcia, get me Jason. I have someone who wants to talk to him." Beck, confused, glanced around at everyone else in the room who seemed to be just as equally confused. That was until he put the call on speaker.</p>
<p>"<em>Jason?</em>" A soft, fragile little voice came from the other line.</p>
<p>"<em>Who's this?</em>" Came a more raspy answer. Beck recognized it as Gideon.</p>
<p>"<em>It's Tracey Belle,</em>" the little girl cried, followed by a deep male voice that definitely wasn't Tracey.</p>
<p>"<em>Go ahead, Tracey. It's okay.</em>" Shivers traveled up Beck's spine at the voice of Frank Breitkopf being heard for the first time. She couldn't imagine that voice being the last thing anyone heard before being killed. And to think he'd killed dozens... hundreds...</p>
<p>"<em>Please, Mr. Gideon,</em>" little Tracey whimpered. "<em>You saved me once. Don't you remember?</em>"</p>
<p>"<em>Of course I remember you. How could I ever forget you?</em>" Gideon replied, his voice remaining calm and collected as he tried to reassure Tracey that she was going to be alright. "<em>Tracey, everything's going to be alright.</em>" Beck was going to make sure that he was right.</p>
<p>She turned to her three team members and silently gestured for them to go. "Go. Now." The three men immediately grabbed their weapons and gear and started to head out, Dr. Reid and the blonde- JJ- following right behind them. She hoped they would make it in time to wherever he was keeping that little girl. The issue with the last time Frank had escaped was because he had the upper hand- no one knew where those children he kidnapped were, only he did. But this time, they were two steps ahead of him thanks to Jane.</p>
<p>Ironic, Beck thought to herself. The woman he thought would be the answer to all his problems turned out to be the key to his demise.</p>
<p>"<em>Please.</em>" The little girl sobbed. "<em>I'm scared. I just want my mommy. Please. Please!</em>"</p>
<p>"<em>Jason..." </em>the deep voice returned. Beck clenched her fists.</p>
<p>"<em>You son of a bitch,</em>" Gideon's voice changing drastically from when he had been speaking with Tracey. "<em>I swear to you I will find you and I will stop you.</em>"</p>
<p>"<em>Ssh. Ssh. Ssh. Jason,</em>" Frank hushed him. "<em>I chose the station because I know how much you love trains. I saw the toys in your apartment.</em>" There it was again. That taunting to Gideon because he wanted to let him know that he knew as much about Gideon as he did about him. He wanted to prove he was better, that he had the power. Just like Waters had with her. But... he was wrong. He was faking it because deep down he knew he would never be better than Gideon. He wasn't anything special, especially to someone who hunts serial killers for a living. To Gideon, he'd always be just another name on a file of a closed case when he brought him down. But to Frank, he'd be the man that locked him away forever. And there was no coming back from that.</p>
<p>After that, the line went dead and the agents in the room sprung into action.</p>
<p>Beck spun to face QB. "Where's my case?"</p>
<p>
  <em>—</em>
</p>
<p>The Union Station was crowded, even more so than the bustling apartment building where this had all started.</p>
<p>Beck, Waters and QB all filed out of their SUV in tactical gear, similar to that of the remaining agents of the BAU that had allowed them to tag along on their own miniature army of tactical officers from the police department.</p>
<p>Beck had been paired with Morgan during their initial arrival, the pair running down bustling hallways and busy corridors of the station as they searched for their target. It reminded her of the last time they'd been paired off in search of an Unsub (as the BAU had called them). Apparently, it reminded Morgan of that night as well.</p>
<p>"Hey, you're not gonna hold me at gunpoint when we eventually find the guy like you did last time, are you?" He jokingly shoved her arm as they stood off to the side, their eyes separately scanning the crowd for any sign of the psychopath.</p>
<p>Beck chuckled, her hands nervously adjusting the strap of her rifle she had pressed against her chest. "Well, considering my choice of weapon is a bit bigger than last time, I'd say the chance of me holding you <em>directly </em>at gunpoint is a bit far fetched," she replied.</p>
<p>Morgan glanced down at her and chuckled. "Yeah, that's for sure. It's almost the same size as you, kid."</p>
<p>She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the people at the station... Beck had to think: if she were a psychopath hoping to trade in a young girl he had hidden away in exchange for a woman he thought of as his mother... where would he wait? He mentioned the trains, hence the train station. There was always more to the plan with this man, it seemed. But... what was his escape plan?</p>
<p>
  <em>"Frank wants Agent Gideon to stop him, doesn't he?"</em>
</p>
<p>His plan...</p>
<p><em>"...he loves her as if she were his </em>mother<em>. She's his substitute. His scapegoat."</em></p>
<p>His escape...</p>
<p>
  <em>He wasn't anything special, especially to someone who hunts serial killers for a living. To Gideon, he'd always be just another name on a file of a closed case when he brought him down. But to Frank, he'd be the man that locked him away forever.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>... And there was no coming back from that.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>There was no coming back from that...</em>
</p>
<p>There was no coming back from that.</p>
<p>She knew what his escape plan was.</p>
<p>"<em>12 o'clock. Platform 11. Target. Target East side. I have eyes on the target-</em>" As soon as Beck process the words being broadcasted into her ear, she was off in a mad dash in the opposite direction. She heard Morgan shout after her, but she didn't have time. She had to get somewhere where she could stop Frank from fulfilling his plan... Always two steps ahead.</p>
<p>Beck ran and ran and ran. She pushed through the crowds of people, manuevered her way through the bustling corridors and jumped her way up flights of stairs until she had made it to the roof of the station. She mad-dashed across the way until she reached the edge. Sure enough, down below was Platform 11 and standing in the center of a legion of armed officers and agents alike was a man standing alone beside a bench. Frank.</p>
<p>Beside him was Gideon, aiming a loaded pistol to his head. Behind him was Jane, the brunette agent holding her arm. And across the way behind Frank was Agent Morgan. Between them all was her target.</p>
<p>Quickly, Beck lowered herself down to the edge of the roof, propping Alice against the edge and angling her just right. It was fairly windy, so she made sure to angle it just slightly further to the right. Carefully, she pressed her eye socket against the scope. Frank's head directly aligned with the red dot in the center, she tilted it again. The perfect shot... only, that would've been his escape plan. She didn't want that for him. So, instead she lowered the aim from beneath his neck. Oh, this was going to be a tricky shot... Too tricky.. Too risky.</p>
<p>"I never miss..." she whispered to herself. "I never miss."</p>
<p>
  <em>—</em>
</p>
<p>"You're not a rare bird, Frank. Nothing special about you," Jason Gideon mocked the psychopath in front of him as he took a step closer, being sure not to let up on the aim he had on him with his pistol raised high. "You're common, pedestrian... boring."</p>
<p>This, surprisingly, didn't seem to both Frank as much as he thought it would. His eyes softened when he turned his attention back to the woman a few yards behind him. "Jane," he held his hand out to her. "This world- we don't fit in it. No one understands what we are."</p>
<p>Actually...</p>
<p>"Jane, he sees you as his mother," Gideon told her matter-of-factly without breaking his eye contact with Frank. "Nothing more, nothing less." He smiled at the thought of ripping everything away from this man. His power, his self-righteous image he had of himself that he thought he was so special, his secrets, and now the woman he loved- the only person he could love, apparently.</p>
<p>Still, Frank persisted. "Have you ever been happier than when you've been with me?" He prompted her.</p>
<p>"Never," Gideon heard her whimsical answer. Oh, this wasn't looking good after all. He fully expected Jane to refuse to accept this crap he was spewing to her, but apparently she, like he, had nothing else in this world but one another. She was so desperate for his love- <em>someone</em> to love her- she was willing to look past everything else.</p>
<p>"Didn't we have fun?" Frank continued.</p>
<p>"So much!" Gideon could hear her getting closer, but he still didn't let up on his aim.</p>
<p>"Come with me now," Frank beamed. "It doesn't have to end here." What did that mean? He had nowhere to go... maybe he still believed that despite what they had told him about his mother that they hadn't thought to look for Tracey Belle in her old apartment. Maybe he still had hope they could make it out of there alive like they had the first time... Gideon couldn't let that happen either.</p>
<p>Gideon's arm was pushed down suddenly by the force of Jane rushing forward towards Frank. "Jane!" he shouted to her, but she was already so caught up by Frank, it was as if he weren't even there.</p>
<p>"I love you," Frank told her affectionately, though it sounded forced to Gideon.</p>
<p>"I love you, too," she told him back.</p>
<p>Everything happened all at once after that.</p>
<p>The horn from an approaching train suddenly blared. It hit Gideon a little too late about what Frank's plan was when he and Jane took two large steps towards the platform edge where the train was headed. He had no intention on leaving alive, he wanted to be stopped. But he wanted to be stopped by him and he wanted to end it all with Jane. He should've seen it coming- <em>why hadn't he seen it coming</em>?</p>
<p>"Jane! <em>Jane</em>!"</p>
<p>They were five steps off the platform.</p>
<p>Four steps.</p>
<p>Three steps.</p>
<p>Two.</p>
<p>One-</p>
<p>
  <em>BANG!</em>
</p>
<p>"<em>Agh-</em>" The shot, followed by a blood-curdling cry of agony echoed across the platform, nearly drowned out by the sound of the train passing by just before either Frank or Jane could jump in front of it's full force.</p>
<p>Gideon couldn't believe his eyes.</p>
<p>Lying on his back against the floor of the platform was Frank, a bloody spot that was growing directly in the spot where his heart would've been if Gideon believed he had one.</p>
<p>"Frank!" Jane wept. She moved to bend down beside him, but was quickly rushed away by Agent Prentiss and a few other officers. Hotchner stepped forward to stand beside Gideon as they hovered above Frank's dying form.</p>
<p>"J-Jane..." he moaned, watching from the corner of his eye as his only reason to live was taken away from him. His escape plan was now falling to pieces and there was nothing he could do about it. A man that once had so much control, not dwindled down to a man dying due to someone else's show of mercy- or, rather, lack thereof. He was dying now on someone else's terms. Someone who clearly had seen his plan before Gideon figured it out himself.</p>
<p>"Jane!" Frank cried out again. For the first time ever, Gideon actually saw a flash of fear in his eyes. He was scared. "...you... you..." he attempted to curse at him, only he couldn't gather the strength to formulate the words.</p>
<p>Slowly, Gideon lowered himself to get closer to Frank as he told him the one thing he'd been dying to say to him since he had first arrived at the platform. "I told you I'd stop you."</p>
<p>Frank looked absolutely furious with a mixture of fear and agony. That was the last thing Gideon saw from Frank before watching the life slowly leave his eyes. He choked on his own blood in his final moments and Gideon couldn't help but wonder who took such a shot...</p>
<p>He wasn't alone.</p>
<p>When he glanced in the direction that the shot had been fired, he noticed the short figure of a brunette woman holding up a gun that was almost the size of her.</p>
<p>Beck... he should've known.</p>
<p>Beside him, Morgan chuckled into his radio microphone. "Nice shot, Captain Ryder."</p>
<p>She smiled and replied over the comms. "<em>Grateful it wasn't you this time, Agent Morgan?</em>"</p>
<p>"Maybe next time, kid!"</p>
<p>"<em>Nice shot, Captain</em>," an unfamiliar voice called to her from over the radio.</p>
<p>Gideon heard her chuckle. "<em>Told you I never miss,</em>" she replied smugly.</p>
<p>
  <em>—</em>
</p>
<p>She found him sitting on a chair in the middle of the now nearly empty lobby of the station. Gideon sat slumped, his head hanging low... She thought she could see the steam escaping from his ears from just how hard the gears in his head were turning.</p>
<p>"This seat taken?" Beck asked.</p>
<p>His head snapped up to look at her as she gestured to the empty chair beside him. He smiled. "It's all yours."</p>
<p>She returned the smile and sat down next to him. She sighed, relishing in the fact that she could finally stretch and relax after the strenuous past couple of hours. "How are you holding up, Gideon?" She tilted her head to the side to get a better look at him.</p>
<p>He tilted his head in the same manner to look back at her. "Could be better..."</p>
<p>"Come on," Beck pressed. "One of the closest things you had to your... happy ending... was just killed by a man you think you failed to catch the first time. How are you really doing, Gideon?"</p>
<p>A ghost of a smile graced his lips. "You know, you could make a pretty good profiler if given the chance."</p>
<p>"Is that a job offer or are you deflecting the question?" She retorted, a smile behind her words.</p>
<p>He cheekily grinned back at her. "Who said it had to be one or the other?" Beck snorted, an unintentional giggle escaping her lips. "... I'll talk to Aaron and Chief Strauss about your performance here today. You did good today, Agent Ryder."</p>
<p>Beck coughed. "Oh, please- just Beck. None of this agent crap."</p>
<p>"Hopefully not for long," he remarked as he made the move to get up.</p>
<p>"Hey," she called after him before he could leave. He spun back around to face her. "How did Erin Strauss get my number? I could've sworn... only you had access to my personal cell for emergency purposes only..."</p>
<p>Gideon smirked. "Guess I just tipped off the right people who I knew would make the right shots." He winked, leaving her behind with a lot to think about.</p>
<p>One thought that just kept whirling around in her head was whether or not she actually had a job offer... and whether or not she wanted to take it...</p>
<p>Agent Ryder.</p>
<p>Had a nice ring to it...</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Blunt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em> Blunt </em> </strong>
</p><p>•••</p><p>
  <em>"You can find anyone that will tell you want you want to hear, but the only one worth valuing is the one that tells you what you need to learn." - Shannon L. Adler</em>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>ONE MONTH LATER</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.</em>
</p><p>God, what if she said something stupid?</p><p>
  <em>Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.</em>
</p><p>Or said something she definitely wasn't supposed to?</p><p>
  <em>Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.</em>
</p><p>Shit- why was it so cold in this fucking waiting room.</p><p>
  <em>Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.</em>
</p><p>"Excuse me, Miss...?"</p><p>Beck's head shot up from where it was hanging between her legs. The receptionist at the front desk looked... agitated. Maybe she hated the cold office just as much as Beck did.</p><p>"Ryder," Beck supplied the woman behind the desk.</p><p>She nodded and typed something on her keyboard. "Alright," she turned back to her with a plastered smile. "Chief Strauss will see you know."</p><p>
  <em>Tap. Tap. Tap-</em>
</p><p>Beck shot up from her chair and straightened out her blazer and shirt.</p><p>Fucking finally.</p><p>The brunette slowly made her way down the hall towards the glass case Chief Strauss called an office. It reminded her of Hawks' old office at the CTU only... brighter. More windows. Maybe that was a sign of some sort. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she should just call this whole thing off and-</p><p>"Agent Ryder," the soft spoken blonde woman in a pastel pantsuit greeted her from the office doorway, ultimately thwarting her plans on running away.</p><p>Beck plastered on her best smile and nodded to the Section Chief. "Chief Strauss."</p><p>"Come in." Beck awkwardly shuffled into the office and stood there, stiff, in the middle of the room as if waiting for Strauss' permission. Eventually, she granted it to her as she made her way to her desk. Before she sat, she gestured to the two chairs in front of her space. "Please, take a seat."</p><p>The brunette took a seat- a little too quickly to be considered as someone at ease in her surroundings. Strauss took notice.</p><p>"You seem nervous," she noted.</p><p>Beck shrugged. "Well, this is my first job interview- like, <em>ever</em>."</p><p>Strauss' eyebrows furrowed. "You were never interviewed for you job with the CIA?"</p><p>"Not exactly," she winced. "They trained me from when I was a teenager in a special program that I'd been recruited into at a young age, fresh out of the foster system."</p><p>"Is that what happened? Your files were very... vague. One might call your background open-ended," Strauss told her. "Though, the tidbits I could pick up on from your time at the CTU were quite impressive. Not to mention the successful results from the job I'd hired you on. Agent Gideon gave you a stellar recommendation in his report on the incident, even after you'd been hired to hunt him down."</p><p>Beck shifted in her seat. "Is, uh... is that why I'm here? Because of Agent Gideon's recommendation?"</p><p>"Well... that. And because there's been a vacancy within the BAU. One he thought you might be able to fill... with time."</p><p>Beck tilted her head in curiosity. "What's the position?"</p><p>"Unit Chief of the BAU," she answered her with a boasted chest.</p><p>"Isn't that... Agent Hotchner's job?"</p><p>Beck watched as Strauss took a deep breath in followed by a heavy, exasperated sigh. That was odd... Did she sense tension within the unit involving the Section Chief and the rest of the team- specifically SSA Hotchner. Perhaps that was what those loaded looks she'd caught the team give one another back at Gideon's apartment when she'd mentioned who had hired her.</p><p>"For the time being," Strauss sounded bitter in her answer. "Unfortunately, I along with other higher authorities among the Bureau fear Aaron Hotchner has lost his touch with how things are supposed to work around here. To be frank, we've been looking for his replacement for some time now."</p><p>"And you're considering me...?" Strauss nodded. "Ma'am with all due respect- I'm literally the last choice you should be considering for such a position of power... I- I have little to no experience with this kind of specific line of work, nor do I have the extensive experience needed to qualify for this kind of leadership position-"</p><p>"Agent Ryder-"</p><p>"Not even mentioning the fact that I have no idea who or what this team is all about. What their names are, how they operate, what their group dynamic is-"</p><p>"Agent Ryder-"</p><p>"And sure- I look great on paper and in what little capacity you've seen of me out in the field. I know my way around military-grade weapons, can talk my way through any yellow tape, and have the resourceful capabilities of nearly half this Bureau-"</p><p>"Agent Ryder-!"</p><p>"But you throw me in the ring- the <em>field</em>- alongside that team with me as their leader- I can't promise there won't be casualties," the anxious brunette finished with a resigned sigh.</p><p>"Which is exactly why I specified the words 'with time', Agent Ryder. This transition of power will <em>take time</em>," Strauss explained in an attempt to calm her nerves. "But first, I'm enlisting your help to push SSA Hotchner into an early retirement, which will take- as I said- time and extreme attention to detail, but I believe you have the skill and patience to-"</p><p>"Wait, wait, wait-!" Beck quickly interjected as she leaned forward in her seat. "You want me to work for you within the BAU as some sort of... <em>double agent</em>?"</p><p>"Well, you are trained in extensive undercover work, are you not, Agent Ryder?"</p><p>"Yeah for special ops and international cases against drug lords or terrorist cells- <em>not</em> a single unit within the FBI," she insisted. "Listen, Chief Strauss... I don't know what kind of domestic dispute you have going on within your own unit, but I want no part in it. Maybe you should just... sit down with the team and have a long therapeutic discussion to settle your problems. Not try to enlist the help of someone like me." Beck was quick to start to leave the room just as quick as she had been to sit in the chair. Whatever this offer was, she wanted no part in it. But for some reason, she was still compelled to stop when she heard Strauss call her name.</p><p>"Rebecca!"</p><p>She halted in her tracks just before she'd reached the door. Every logical part of her brain told her to just keep going. To ignore this woman's offer and just walk out the door and never think of it again. It was just a stupid job at yet another stupid unit. There would be more opportunities like it knowing her array of skills and how good she looked on paper and on the field (she wasn't wrong about that part).</p><p>But this job was different... wasn't it?</p><p>This job was gratifying. The feeling of knowing she stopped one of the most prolific serial killers, well, ever, was the most satisfying feeling she'd had in such a long time. This job, in the short time she'd gotten a taste of it, actually made her think. At the CTU, it was all about planning and being a brute and pushing papers and every so often she'd have to calculate a trajectory for a good shot from a couple miles away. But other than that... there was nothing that really <em>challenged </em>Beck. But this job did.</p><p>"Agent Ryder..." Strauss called out to her once more. This time, she turned to glance at the Chief from over her shoulder. "After the CTU, you are in dire need of something to do... Your eagerness for this meeting was a clear sign from that. You enjoy what you do, and I can guarantee a spot for you on this team, but only under <em>my</em> conditions."</p><p>"Play double agent to get your Unit Chief out of the picture long enough for me to take his post...?" Beck prompted in a dark tone laced with skepticism of the Section Chief's clearly shady deal. God, she wasn't seriously considering taking this fucking deal... Was she?</p><p>Strauss slowly stepped around the edge of her desk to take a seat on the corner, her arms crossed over her chest and the ghost of a smug smile gracing her lips. She looked like the cat that caught the canary... or, more like the canary that had somehow managed to put a leash on the cat. "Don't think of it as something to deal... Think of it as a job you're being hired for, but one that comes with benefits for yourself. A quid pro quo..." Slowly, the woman stalked forward... Beck had to think, maybe she was the helpless canary in this situation. "So, Agent Ryder, have we come to an agreement?"</p><p>Beck closed her eyes for a moment and took in a deep breath.</p><p>This was totally going to come back to bite her in the ass. But honestly... she didn't care much anymore.</p><p>When she opened her eyes again, her hand was already gripping Strauss' in a firm shake. "Yes, we do."</p><p>Strauss released her hand and smiled. "I'll be in contact with you soon about when you start."</p><p>Beck gave the woman a stiff nod, her eyes falling down to her feet as she dragged them towards and then out of the door. As she made her way out of the building, she briefly passed by the receptionist's desk again.</p><p>"Have a good day!" The bubbly young lady behind the desk chimed.</p><p>"Fuck off."</p><p>
  <em>—</em>
</p><p>Beck found that Strauss made good on her promise. In fact, she got that call about her official first day at the BAU almost 6 <em>excruciating</em> days later.</p><p>She had just been finishing up moving all her shit back into her old apartment she'd had when working with the CTU. She figured she might as well move back in if she was going to be working with the Bureau now. It wasn't the CIA, but Quantico wasn't that much further of a drive in the more Southern direction.</p><p>It was a little difficult moving all the furniture back in from the storage unit when all she had was her and her bike, but with enough patience and a rental moving van, Beck had managed to restore her apartment's former glory of what was made from an 18 year old living on her own for the first time. It still held a childlike environment. The pinball machine in the corner was still up and running with her high score she'd gotten when she was 20 still glowing at the top of the screen. Her bookshelf full of sci-fi novels, movies and DVD TV shows all neatly organized by color, series, and alphabetical order was back to it's place on the far wall away from the terrace door. And the dozens of lava lamps and LED fairy lights spread about each and every room that made the apartment seem more like the inside of the Enterprise Bridge. Her kitchen was stocked full of microwavable noodles and frozen pizzas, three entire cabinets dedicated just to chips, candies, and cookies.</p><p>Then was her room... All there was in there was a large king sized bed in the center of the room with basic black sheets and a comforter. There were two night stands on either side and a vanity at the far end of the room, but other than that, her room was as basic and underwhelming as they could come. Not even a picture inside.</p><p>Beck let out a heavy sigh as she glanced at the room from the doorway. She figured maybe a lava lamp here or there or even a plant would suffice, but she just... didn't want to touch it. Something about the separation between where she slept and where she lived just made her want to keep it untouched.</p><p>Her inner turmoil about her sleeping arrangements were interrupted by the feeling of her phone buzzing in her back pocket. She knew better than to check the caller ID and answered after the first ring.</p><p>"Ryder."</p><p>"<em>We have a case. I want you to join the team for it.</em>"</p><p>Normally, Beck would've made a witty comment about the lack of the word 'please', but she didn't exactly like Strauss enough to bother. After all, the woman was having her slither into this team as a double agent so it wasn't exactly all fun and games as she'd hoped getting this job would be. If anything, it was a mission. Not one she was fond of either.</p><p>Beck answered with a resigned sigh, already in movement to get her go bag from her closet. "When and where?"</p><p>"<em>Portland. Today,</em>" Strauss replied shortly. "<em>The team has been informed that you'll be joining them. I trust you know the way to the office, but you'll have to use a guest ID until we've issued you your official Bureau credentials. They'll be waiting for you then.</em>"</p><p>The brunette was already slinging her duffel over her shoulder, her free hand coming out to snatch up her keys, wallet, and gun as she made her way out off the empty room. "Alright. Will I be seeing you there?"</p><p>"<em>Briefly. I'll be meeting you to escort you in, but I wouldn't count on me being there long, so no need to manage your micro-expressions when around me, Agent Ryder.</em>"</p><p>"It wasn't my micro-expressions I was worried about, Chief Strauss," she retorted with a roll of her eyes. Which wasn't a lie. Truthfully, she just didn't feel like having to deal with her anymore than she had to.</p><p>"<em>I will be expecting a full report on the case and anything note-worthy about Agent Hotchner's behavior and leadership afterwards.</em>" Oh, there was the kicker. "<em>Is that understood?</em>"</p><p>"Yes, ma'am," she begrudgingly grumbled before ending the call and shoving her phone in her jacket pocket. As she was on her way out of the room, she made sure to quickly grab her earphones off her counter and her helmet right beside it. She hoped to whatever higher power was that Quantico had as good of a security presence in their parking garage as the GBC because if her baby had even a scratch on her when she got back, everyone in that building would be a target and she'd be sure to make it look like an accident.</p><p>
  <em>—</em>
</p><p>Today was the day. Today was quite the day.</p><p>Penelope Garcia had had it marked down in her calendar since the beginning of the week when Strauss had first notified Hotch about the new development in an after-hours meeting- that she totally "hadn't" eavesdropped in on. Apparently, they were getting a new team member. All she heard was a last name, though. But, the curious kitten that was Penelope Garcia wasn't going to give up because of her lack of information on this new team member.</p><p>So, naturally, the following few days she had been digging and digging through the system for any new credentials that had been entered into the system and low and behold did she finally find someone.</p><p>"Rebecca Ryder," she announced excitedly as she rushed into the office space she'd known to call home for the past few years.</p><p>"Who?" Her favorite Agent (possibly favorite person) perked his head up from the newspaper he'd been reading as she'd entered. Derek Morgan- or as she affectionately called him; her Chocolate Thunder- furrowed his thick eyebrows as she waved around the small stack of files in her hands. The rest of the agents at their collective desks turned their attention to Penelope as well.</p><p>She beamed at her favorite team of people. "That's her name. The new team member that's joining us today. Her name is Rebecca Ryder. And guess what- she's from the-"</p><p>"CIA?"</p><p>Penelope's smile fell as her eyes darted down at the resident genius in the room. Spencer glanced up at the bubbly blonde, his eyebrows furrowed in a way similar to Derek's. "How did you...?"</p><p>"Agent Rebecca Ryder of the Counterterrorism Unit with the CIA," Derek hummed, discarding his newspaper onto his desk as his attention was now fully on this new development. "Yeah. We've met her. She held me at gunpoint the first time we met."</p><p>Penelope's brief look of surprise morphed into that of anger. "I'm sorry- she <em>what</em>?" What psycho bitch was pointing guns at her Baby Daddy? And to think she was excited to have another girl on the team.</p><p>"Calm down, Baby Girl. It was to catch a mole in the CIA," Derek assured her, his hand coming up to pat her arm to try and calm her down. "Remember that case? You got access to their database for a whole day."</p><p>Realization set in then. "With the- with the two security guards that kept watch on JJ and I!" She snapped. Oh yeah, she remembered this case.</p><p>"Yeah, you tried to find out what Prince William's phone number was before they locked you out of the system," JJ chuckled fondly at the memory. "You probably added your name to a few other lists that night."</p><p>Penelope groaned. "Don't remind me, <em>Jennifer</em>," she retorted to the blonde.</p><p>"So, the new team member Strauss talked to Hotch about is someone from a previous case?" Emily chimed in from where she sat at her own desk. She'd swiveled her chair to face towards the conversation just like Derek had.</p><p>"Well, you've met her, too, Emily," Spencer told her matter-of-factly. "She was the one leading the team that Strauss had hired to hunt down Gideon."</p><p>"<em>What</em>? How horrible is this woman?" Penelope gasped. "First, holding my Derek at gunpoint, now you're telling me she tried to hunt down Gideon? What else did she do? Kill a few puppies along the way?" When no one answered, her anxiety spiked momentarily as panic set in. "Please don't tell me she's killed puppies."</p><p>"I doubt it. But I don't doubt she hasn't killed quite a few people in her days with the CIA," Derek remarked as he leaned back in his seat.</p><p>"Oh, you're not wrong about that," Penelope grimaced as she held up the file in her hand she had brought in. "Everything about her past with the CIA is sealed. And I mean- someone locked everything about this girl into a box, swallowed the key, burned the box and scattered the remains at the bottom of the ocean. She practically doesn't exist and all that's in this measly little folder is all I managed to dig up after five excruciating days of digging. Honestly- my fingers hurt from all the typing."</p><p>The rest of the team all shared loaded glances back and forth. It seemed as though they were as curious as she had been with the mystery that was Rebecca Ryder.</p><p>"So," Emily leaned forward in her seat. "What <em>did</em> you dig up on her?"</p><p>Penelope smiled at the brunette. "Well, according to her surface profile provided by the CIA, she is 24 years old and from San Antonio, Texas. She was adopted by an Army General- Phillip Ryder- and grew up on base for most of her life, up until she was recruited by the CIA CTU at 18 where she worked profusely until abruptly resigning a year ago for reasons clear to all of you, but not to me. It's- as I said before- sealed," she read off from the papers inside of the file in her hand.</p><p>It was JJ's turn to furrow her eyebrows in both confusion and perplexity. "18? Why so young?"</p><p>"Also in her file is that she was apart of a special government program that basically trained her from a teenager up until she was a legal adult to be the perfect candidate for the Agency," the other blonde explained. "Something odd- apparently she was provided a private education, only it's also recently been sealed... Manually, too."</p><p>"She did it herself maybe?" Emily shrugged.</p><p>"Why would she want to hide her education, but not her family?" Derek crossed his arms over his chest as he tried not to think too hard on something he clearly wouldn't be getting an answer on anytime soon.</p><p>Spencer shrugged. "I don't know, but I do know she prefers the name 'Beck' instead of Rebecca. She told me when I'd first met her back on the case with John Summers, Hassan Nadir, and Bruno Hawks," he remarked. "I thought it was curious because most women who choose to shorten their more feminine name to a unisex, more masculine, nickname tend to do so reluctantly due to an overuse from a male family member. But she was away from her adopted father and siblings due to her program and I noticed that Bruno Hawks had called her 'Becca' and not 'Beck.'"</p><p>The team members around him all glanced amongst each other, unsure of what to make of the Doctor's word vomit... Which was a normal occurrence, of course.</p><p>Derek chuckled. "Very interesting, but what does her nickname have to do with who she is?"</p><p>"Nothing. I just thought it was interesting that she falls into the small percentage of women that choose to willingly go by a masculine nickname instead of go by nicknames given to them by father figures-"</p><p>"Okay, are we seriously trying to profile our newest team member instead of focusing on the case we're undoubtedly about to be briefed on as soon as she gets here?" Emily interjected. "Is this what you did when I first joined the team? Dig up dirt then try to profile me before I even have time to break in my desk?" She shook her head and chuckled as she leaned back in her chair.</p><p>Penelope grimaced.</p><p>"...<em>maybe</em>."</p><p>"Garcia!"</p><p>The group all laughed amongst each other, save for Spencer who still seemed to be hyper fixating on a certain letter in his hand in front of him. No one else took notice of the odd behavior from the young doctor because once their laughter died down, their eyes were drawn to the office doors that JJ was gesturing to.</p><p>"Look," the blonde jerked her head in the direction. The rest of the team turned their attention to where Strauss was walking in, a large pile of files in her arms as she made her way around most of the desks and up to the walkway leading towards Hotch's office. She was speaking over her shoulder, specifically to the short woman trailing behind her wearing all black. This was her. Rebecca Ryder.</p><p>Of course, the first thing Penelope noticed was just how short she was. She looked to be just a little bit taller than five feet, even with the heeled boots she had on. She was just an inch or two shorter than Strauss herself, but from the way she was walking, clearly she had enough confidence to be a seven foot body builder with the way she held herself. Her posture was one thing and her fashion sense was another. Next to the horror stories she'd already heard about this girl, Penelope was terrified even further by her choice of clothing. All dark. Black boots, black skinny jeans, a navy blue V-neck, black leather jacket, even a pair of black sunglasses that sat at the bridge of her nose that she slowly slid off to rest in her pocket the closer her and Strauss got to the office. Even her hair looked to be a dark jet-black pulled into a ponytail, her bangs bouncing with every stride she took.</p><p>"She's so... short," Penelope remarked as Strauss and Ryder entered Hotch's office.</p><p>JJ snorted beneath her breath. "That's our cue. Come on, guys. Might as well set up the office for briefing our new addition." The blonde pushed herself from off the edge of Emily's desk to start towards the Bull Pen. Emily and Derek gathering their belongings to follow in suit. Penelope was practically shaking in her brightly colored heels with the excitement she was feeling now. Or maybe that was terror, she wasn't too sure. Either way, she was so caught up in her nerves that she almost missed the way Spencer seemed to linger at his desk while everyone else had gone.</p><p>"Hey." His floppy head of curls bounced as his eyes shot up to hers. "Everything alright?"</p><p>Spencer nodded. "Uh... yeah. Just thinking is all."</p><p>Penelope let out a heavy sigh and offered the doctor a sad smile. "About Gideon?"</p><p>He nodded again, a small frown forming on his lips as he pocketed the piece of paper he'd been toying with the entire morning. "I miss him."</p><p>"Me, too," she replied, her hand coming up to pat him on his boney shoulder. "Now come on, Brainiac, just because Gideon is gone doesn't mean the creepy killers stop."</p><p>Oh, how right she was.</p><p>
  <em>—</em>
</p><p>"Hotchner. I presume you've already acquainted yourself with Agent Ryder," Strauss plastered on her best fake smile as she gestured between the two stiff agents, one of which towered the other by a good two to three feet. God, Beck hated being short.</p><p>"We've met, yes." Hotchner extended a calloused hand towards her that she was hesitant to take, but thought back to what Hawks had once told her; that the eyes weren't the windows to the soul, the handshake was. His was firm and short. As soon as he shook her small hand once, he let it drop, making sure not to linger. Clearly he was in a foul mood, whether it was because of her or something else was unseen.</p><p>Beck didn't bother to plaster on such a fake smile as Strauss had, but settled for an awkward half smirk that seemed more genuine. "Pleasure to be working with you again. Glad it's under better circumstances than the last time." He nodded in agreement, but didn't seem to relax his posture at all. Hm... he wasn't one for reading between the lines. She'd have to go for a more direct jab... "I heard about Gideon. I'm sorry. I knew how good of an agent he was." Hotchner's jaw clenched if only for a second and Beck had to refrain from smiling. There it was... He was pissed about Gideon, clearly. Which, in turn, probably made him a little upset about her. It was in her best interest to maintain these walls seeing as he probably saw her as some sort of replacement for his old friend. Oh, how wrong he was there...</p><p>It wasn't a lie that Beck was sorry about Gideon. Strauss had told her earlier in the week that Gideon had left shortly after giving her a recommendation for the job. Beck figured Hotchner was only willing to allow her onto the team solely because of Gideon's recommendation. Hm... Gideon was both a divide and a bridge between her and Hotchner. An interesting development.</p><p>"Well, Agent Hotchner, I trust you to take care of one of the CIA's best operatives. We're lucky to have her," Strauss boasted to the Unit Chief. Beck grimaced at the bragging. God, she hated it. Reminded her too much of how proud Hawks of was her every time he introduced her to high class colleagues that would visit the CTU from time to time. The last thing she wanted was another Hawks in her life.</p><p>When Beck opened her eyes again after grimacing, she noticed Hotchner's watchful and stoic gaze on her. He must've seen her reaction to Strauss's bragging. Beck's eyes flew to the ground. Great, he clearly already saw a crack in the wall she was trying so hard to uphold. Why'd she let her guard down to the point where she let him see her so open and blatant distaste towards that little thing. The average person wouldn't think to look too deep into it, but this was a profiler. Someone literally trained to dig deep into the most miniscule of reactions and behaviors. Great... Already, this little mission was off to a rough start and she'd have to be more careful with her micro-expressions. Boy, had she misspoken on the phone with Strauss.</p><p>Just then, there was a knock on the door of the office. All three people inside turned to see a slim blonde in the doorway, a stack of files cradled in her arms. Beck didn't immediately recognize her until she suddenly remembered that same head of hair being attached to the woman in the interrogation room with Jane a month ago. Her eyes trailed from Strauss, to Beck, then to Hotch whom she smiled at. "Sir, we're gathering," she stated.</p><p>Hotchner nodded to the woman. "Thank you." And like that, she left.</p><p>Strauss turned back to look at the agent beside her. "I'll leave you to it." She glanced between both Hotchner then back to Beck. Beck noticed the lingering stare she held with her. A miniscule action that held a double meaning that Beck tried her hardest not to roll her eyes at. She was tempted to groan '<em>yes, I'll remember to double cross and fill you in later</em>' just to spite the hag. But, she decided against it as she watched the Devil in Prada leave the office just like the blonde had, leaving behind just her and the very tall and very stoic Agent Hotchner.</p><p>"I'll take you to the Bull Pin. It's where the team is normally briefed on all of our cases," he explained in his monotone and emotionless voice as he began to walk out the door and follow the way the blonde had left.</p><p>Beck, despite how short her little legs were, had not trouble with keeping pace with the man as he led her down the cat walk. It reminded her of the CTU Pit, but then again, so did everything it seemed. She tried not to draw too many similarities between the two because she vowed she'd never go back to that place. Figuratively or literally.</p><p>As the pair drew closer to what Hotchner had called the 'Bull Pin,' Hotchner made sure to stand aside in the small walkway to allow her to walk into the office where the team was waiting first. "Allow me to introduce you to them, although, I'm sure you already know know most if not all of everyone here," he exclaimed as they entered. As soon as they did, their presence called upon all attention into the room. Not authority, no one seemed to stiffen at Hotchner's entrance, which Beck found odd. He was their boss and yet they were all so at ease with him, as though he were just one of them. Perhaps that's what his dynamic was amongst them. She'd have to gain a similar dynamic as well if she was going to make this work, but for now, she seemed to be on the outside of this dynamic, seeing as all eyes were on her, the outsider.</p><p>"Everyone, I'd like to reintroduce you to Agent Rebecca Ryder, who'll be joining on as our newest team member," Hotchner announced to the group before them. "Ryder, you've already met Dr. Reid, Agent Morgan, Agent Prentiss, and Agent Jareau."</p><p>Beck stood stiffly at the back of the room still, her eyes scanning around to find familiar faces. She knew Dr. Reid, of course, who spared her a knowing smile from where sat in the swiveling chair at the table just in front of her. She nodded in acknowledgement to him. Sitting along the table to the left of him was the other woman Beck recognized from the interrogation room with Jane who Agent Hotchner had addressed as Agent Prentiss. She gave her a brief nod, her attention turned back to the file she had been reading when she walked in. Standing up on the opposite side of her, stirring his coffee, was Agent Morgan. And of course, she'd already met him. She was almost surprised at how friendly his smile was as he greeted her.</p><p>"Hey there, kid. Glad you could make it to the big leagues," he chuckled as he took a seat, setting his coffee down on one side of his own files.</p><p>She chuckled beneath her breath. "Glad I could be here," she replied, ducking her head slightly as she did so.</p><p>Just then, the same blonde that had gone to fetch Hotchner and her beamed as she came forward and extended a hand to her. Beck took it. Firm and multiple shakes. She was clearly excited to meet her and had zero suspicions or any negative premonitions towards her, which was a good sign, Beck figured. "I'm Jennifer, but everyone just calls me JJ," she exclaimed.</p><p>"Beck," she replied, though not as eagerly, just before the blonde released her hand and set the last set of files down at the table in front of the empty seat between Agent Morgan and Dr. Reid. Beck was quick to take it as it seemed they were about to start and she really didn't want to linger too long on the niceties of introductions as if they were in a kindergarten class.</p><p>"Okay," JJ began as she started to walk around the round table towards the front of the room where Hotchner had already been standing. "We have four victims in Oregon. Two male, two female-"</p><p>Beck had just started to flip through the paper files the blonde had set down in front of her when Hotchner swiftly cut her off. "I got this." Everyone seemed to be caught off guard by his abrupt interjection. Apparently, this wasn't a normal occurrence.</p><p>"Uh, sure..." All eyes were on him as JJ awkwardly took a seat beside Agent Morgan.</p><p>Hotchner glanced among his team members, his eyes not bothering to meet Beck's which told her this clearly wasn't meant for her, but for the rest of the group. Once again, she found herself singled out as the outsider. "I know that we've all been wondering what this was all about. And, uh... You know, I've known Jason for many years, and I can tell you... I have no idea."</p><p>Ah, it was about Gideon. Figures. They all must've been close with him. Well... not as close as they thought seeing as it was unknown to anybody (even them) about why he left.</p><p>"But it doesn't even matter," Hotchner went on to say. "What matters is we're here, and we're gonna continue." It was odd... He almost sounded emotional despite how monotone he was. God, this guy was weird and so frustratingly unreadable. Maybe it was intentional. Maybe that's why he was so good at what he did. If that was the case, she wondered why Strauss wanted him gone so badly. She guessed she would just have to wait and see.</p><p>Hotchner then pressed a button on the remote he had in his hand, turning on the screen behind him to project a map of sorts. Beck knew that the minute she had seen every detail on there, she wouldn't forget it. Who knew- maybe it would help her later.</p><p>"Portland Field Office uncovered a mass grave with three bodies killed six months ago," Hotchner began to present, putting the meeting back on track. He clicked the button again to project another image. This time of said bodies all laid out among dirt and grass. From there, it looked as though they were just masses, but Beck had seen enough dead bodies to know how to decipher them. "Nearby they found another body." Another click. More bodies. Great. "Causes of death range from burning alive to asphyxiation. No sexual assault."</p><p>Hmm... Interesting parameters. Same dump site, different methods of killing, clearly signs of torture and a slow and meaningful death. Definitely a psychopath. And a sadistic one at that.</p><p>As if he'd read her mind... "Well, the torture's clearly sadistic," Agent Morgan remarked.</p><p>"The lack of sexual preferences could make it hard to tell if the Unsub is male or female," Dr. Reid interjected as well.</p><p>Agent Prentiss beside him shrugged. "Typically, female serial killers stick to the same M.O. It looks like this guy's all over the place."</p><p>"Pfft. No kidding," Beck remarked as she flipped through the files in front of her, which included autopsies of all the bodies. "Burnt alive, hung, asphyxiation, and- am I reading this correctly- exsanguination? I mean, what's he trying to do? Test out every possible way to kill someone?"</p><p>"That's one possibility," Agent Morgan remarked. "A sick one, but one nonetheless."</p><p>"Most recent victim is Jenny Wittman. Asphyxiated. Discovered yesterday." Hotchner changed the screen to show a closer look at a the female's dead body sprawled out and covered in dirt. Her eyes still wide open, but clouded over. Like a ghost. Beck figured she must've died slowly. Oh, yeah, this was definitely some sick fuck.</p><p>"How long was she missing?" Dr. Reid prompted.</p><p>"She was never reported missing," Hotchner replied matter-of-factly. Beck's eyebrows furrowed, as did Dr. Reid's.</p><p>That was odd... Judging by her clean cuticles (underneath the dirt, that was) and her nicely shaped and- most likely- regularly plucked eyebrows, she certainly wasn't homeless. She could've been a prostitute, but her modest choice of clothing and lack of any jewelry save for the chunky black watch on her wrist suggested otherwise. So, if she wasn't at risk or homeless... why wouldn't she be reported missing? A mystery within itself, it seemed.</p><p>"What about the others?" Dr. Reid and Beck spoke in unison. They both glanced at one another momentarily before turning back to Hotchner for his answer.</p><p>"Only one."</p><p>"One of four?" Dr. Reid asked. Huh, so not only had they all died, but there was a pattern that none of them seemed to be drawing any suspicion from family members about their whereabouts, despite having been unresponsive for six months for reasons just recently discovered.</p><p>"Rick Holland was reported missing nine months ago, but the search was called off." JJ was the one to answer this time as a missing poster for a young man appeared on the screen.</p><p>Beck tilted her head. "Do we know why?"</p><p>"Family discovered his car at the train station, but more importantly, they received emails from him saying that he needed time to figure things out," Hotchner explained.</p><p>"And his family bought that?" Morgan sounded almost offended for the guy at how easily his family gave up. Hell, Beck would've been offended too if her family forgot about her that quick and took a lousy excuse for a reason not to drag her ass back to them.</p><p>Hotchner shrugged. "'Guess the alternative was too hard to accept."</p><p>"Did any of the other families receive similar emails?" Beck asked.</p><p>"We have someone looking into it," Hotchner replied.</p><p>Dr. Reid hummed from beside her as he played with the pen in his hands. "Reaching out <em>could </em>be a sign of remorse," he suggested.</p><p>"Psychopaths don't apologize for their behavior," Hotchner remarked.</p><p>Beck didn't bother to look up from her files as she interjected her own two cents. "You don't have to be a profiler to understand this guy isn't being remorseful. Why else plant the car at the train station?" She prompted. "He's covering his own ass."</p><p>"Well, it's working," Morgan muttered beside her, his eyes trained on his own set of paper files.</p><p>"So..." Beck watched as Agent Prentiss stood up to examine the physical map at the front of the room as she tried to piece it all together. "Three victims he buried in one grave and then only Jenny Wittman in the other."</p><p>Morgan peered at her from over the files in his hand. "You thinking it's a pattern?"</p><p>She turned to him with befuddlement. "Uh, it's hard to tell."</p><p>Hotchner glanced towards her. "If there is, it's one down... two to go."</p><p>"A pattern? With this psycho?" Beck scoffed. "The only thing that's been consistent with him- aside from his inconsistency- is whatever method he's using to keep the attention off his back. I'd be willing to bet that the pattern with the fake emails is something he's privy, too. I mean, clearly if the family knew enough about Holland there to call off the search and actually believe he'd branched out to go soul search, maybe he knows these victims fairly well."</p><p>Beck had gone quiet when she realized all eyes were on her. Suddenly, she felt just like she had her first day at CTU. Bright-eyed and only slightly jaded at the time little Beck went in there, thinking she knew her stuff, only to be shot down by all the higher ranking adults. She waited for that to happen here, only... it didn't. In fact, the other team members all looked among one another as if quietly agreeing on what she'd just said. Had she hit it on the nose?</p><p>Hotchner seemed to think so. "That's a good starting point." He almost sounded reluctant to admit it, clearly he was still slightly pissed about her being there. "The local office is waiting for our arrival. Wheel's up in thirty." And just like that, everyone around the table began to grab their belongings, prepping for whatever 'wheel's up' meant.</p><p>"Uh... my bike kind of speeds up the trip. Is it cool if I leave now and meet you guys there?" Beck asked Hotchner as the rest of the team bustled out of the room as a collective group.</p><p>Hotchner furrowed his eyebrows at her odd question. "What do you mean?"</p><p>"We're driving there, right?"</p><p>"No. We have our own jet. If you need a ride to hangar, we all tend to ride there together," he explained, though his words all seemed to mesh together after Beck heard the word 'jet' leave his mouth.</p><p>"J-Jet?" She betrayed herself with the stammering. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at her. Oh, he knew almost immediately. This wasn't awe, either... "You guys fly?"</p><p>"Makes things a lot quicker than driving. Less time wasted while the Unsubs have more time to kill," he replied. "If you need to sit this one out-"</p><p>Oh, like Hell!</p><p>"No!" She quickly straightened herself out and stood up, grabbing her files as she did so. "My go bag's already packed and waiting downstairs. I can just follow you guys to the hangar."</p><p>He seemed almost amused by her fear, but didn't let it show. "Alright..."</p><p>"Alright." And with that, she spun on her heel and headed out... To the parking garage... To get her bike... To drive to the hangar... To get on a jet... <em>Shit</em>.</p><p>
  <em>—</em>
</p><p>The jet was small... Too small. It reminded her too much of just how small the first plane had been.</p><p>Flashes of a distant memory were at the forefront of her mind. It had happened years ago, yet the fear still remained. It was so fresh, even now it felt as thought her leg still had that piece of metal still stuck inside of it.</p><p>She shifted nervously on the back of her bike as she glared at the jet some more. Carefully, she slid off and tightened her grip on her duffel strap. The rest of the team had come in separate SUVs like Hotchner had said, but she had also said her bike did tend to make things go faster so she'd beaten them there by about fifteen minutes despite having said she'd follow them. She'd spent that extra fifteen minutes waiting by calming her nerves and reassuring herself that everything was fine and that she needed to pull her shit together and just get through this. It was just another plane. This one hadn't gone down, neither had the many others she'd been on since joining the CIA. Only, those were a lot bigger than this tiny one...</p><p>God, and here she went again on this downward spiral.</p><p>"Ryder." Hotchner was standing at the top of the entryway stairs, waiting in the doorway for her as she approached.</p><p>"Sorry, just making sure my baby is gonna be safe here," she explained as she made her way up the steps, being sure not to let the feeling as though her chest were slowly expanding distract her from keeping her micro-expressions under control. She'd already slipped up twice and Hotchner had only slipped up once.</p><p>Hotchner moved out of the way for her to enter the cabin. The very small, very narrow cabin.</p><p>
  <em>Take a breath. Take a breath. Take a breath.</em>
</p><p>She repeated to herself over and over again in her head as she filed in along with the rest of the team. They all had taken their collective seats among cushiony sofas and there was even a couch off to the side. Where were the actual seats that she could strap into because there was no way she was going up in the air without so much as a seat belt on. She saw an empty seat with a seatbelt in the corner of a set of four chairs set around a table in the middle of the cabin. She didn't bother to hesitate as she quickly slid and buckled the belt around her waist. But as the jet began to rumble and the sounds of the engines grew louder, she noticed no one else was bothering to buckle up or even really take a seat.</p><p>The blonde- <em>JJ</em>- was leaning on the arm rest of the couch a few feet away, Morgan and Prentiss sprawled out on either side of the couch just beside her, and Dr. Reid- Hell- he was busy pouring himself some coffee just behind where she sat. All of these people were insane... or maybe she was just this scared of flying.</p><p>"Everything alright?" Hotchner asked her as he took a seat in the chair across from her. He looked a little too smug when he asked her.</p><p>"Fine," she bit out as the jet jolted. She quickly slammed the small window blind closed so not to have anything to look through. "How long until we land?"</p><p>"We haven't even lifted off yet," he remarked. She gave him a pointed glare and he relented. "Six and a half hours." Beck groaned and let her head hit the back of the seat. Great... Where were the good drugs when she needed them?</p><p>"Are you afraid of flying?" She was broken from her worrisome thoughts by Dr. Reid taking a seat beside her, his cup of coffee in his hands as he did so. He, like the rest of the team, didn't bother to buckle up.</p><p>Beck shifted uncomfortably in her chair as she felt the jet start to gain momentum. "What? No." Just as the lie left her mouth, the minute she felt the plane began to lift off, her hand shot out to grab onto the edge of the table in front of them in a death grip as if it would save her if the plane was brought down. Once the plane steadied itself a little more, her grip loosened. When she opened her eyes, she could see Dr. Reid staring at her with a soft smile playing at his lips as if he'd just caught her in her bluff. Which he had, of course, but he didn't need to be so happy about it, that prick. "Maybe..." She relented after a moment.</p><p>"You were in the CIA and were apart of a multitude of missions overseas. Didn't you fly then? For longer distances?" He questioned her.</p><p>"Uh... Yeah, in bigger planes. Not tiny limos in the sky," she retorted. "Do you have any liquor on this thing, by chance?"</p><p>"Little early for drinking, isn't it, Ryder?" Morgan chuckled as he passed by to take a seat on a chair a few feet away, his files in his hand as he did so.</p><p>Beck rolled her eyes. "It's five o'clock somewhere..."</p><p>"So, is it the fear of the enclosed space, the fear of heights, or the fear of crashing that makes you afraid of flying?" Dr. Reid continued to pester her. What was this? An interview?</p><p>Beck shrugged. "I was once locked in a metal coffin for four days without seeing the sunlight and I've sniped crooked foreign diplomats from the roofs of some of the tallest skyscrapers in the world... Take a guess."</p><p>Dr. Reid seemed to be even further perplexed by her answer and continued with his questions. "You know, you shouldn't be afraid of crashing in planes. In fact, the probability is-"</p><p>"I don't wanna know the probability. Do <em>not</em> tell me the probability." She turned to give him a withering glare. She expected him to shy away out of fear, but he merely chuckled to himself before settling back into his seat again and taking a sip of his coffee.</p><p>"Mm," he hummed before unbuckling his seatbelt. "Needs more sugar." Beck watched as he climbed from his seat and headed to the back of the cabin like he had before the flight had begun. After he'd left, she was content to just keep focusing on the file in front of her instead of the slight bumps and shakes of the plane she was hyperaware of.</p><p>Hotchner must've taken notice because he then decided that maybe it was a good idea, too.</p><p>"Can we go over what Portland found?" He called over his shoulder to JJ who had started to hand out the prints of pictures from the screen now that they were in the air.</p><p>She started from Morgan, still in his seat at the far end of the jet across from her, and worked her way back. "One female and two male victims found buried together in the same grave. All 25 to 30. All had been dead... 6 months?" She listed off of what was read on the files and what they'd gone over back at the Bull Pin. Beck had already memorized the words she'd read off the files, the maps from the screens, every detail of the lifeless bodies on the images projected, but she still found solace in just listening to the blonde repeat it. It was better than listening to the engines.</p><p>"That sounds like three different M.O.s," Prentiss remarked from her seat just as JJ sat down on the couch arm beside her.</p><p>Dr. Reid had taken this time to come back from adding sugar to his coffee, his head reappearing in Beck's peripheral view as he hovered over the back of the seat he'd been in earlier. "Uh, Gary Taylor, the 'Phantom Sniper,' was all over the map- just like this guy," he jumped into the conversation with ease. "He changed his M.O. as his need to control the situation changed."</p><p>"He was also driven by pure, unadulterated anger," Beck hadn't even realized she'd spoke until she noticed eyes on her again. She swallowed, her eyes going back to the papers in front of her once more. "This guy... he enjoys what he's doing, clearly. If not, he wouldn't prolong their deaths."</p><p>Hotchner tilted his head in curiosity at her words. "What makes you think their deaths were drawn out?"</p><p>"The pictures on the screen. I noticed a pattern in his inconsistent M.O.," she began to explain as she pulled out the photos JJ had provided and slid it to the middle of the table. "The first victim- the one that had been hung- there had been multiple marks around his neck. Slight indentions around the actual fatal indention in his neck that crushed his windpipe." She showed said indentions on the neck of their first victim with her finger. It was hard to miss, but she knew what choking someone more than once looked like. "Those slight indentions show that he had been dangling from that noose multiple times. The last time being the try that killed him."</p><p>The brunette then pulled out the image from their second victim.</p><p>"Then the exsanguination victim... No need to tell you that this guy died slowly and painfully. And then the fourth victim-"</p><p>"I think we all understand the point you're trying to make, Agent Ryder," Hotchner cut her off swiftly. She bit her tongue and had to smother a glare at the older agent. It was one thing to be bitter, but she was only trying to help. The atmosphere in the jet stiffened as the tension made it a little harder to breathe after Hotchner's passive aggressive outburst, so he was quick to change the subject as he turned to JJ. "What about the fresh grave?"</p><p>JJ hesitated momentarily before glance down at the files in her head and reading off, "Uh, female, 28- dead roughly 48 hours. She was asphyxiated."</p><p>Morgan, who had moved to hover behind Hotch's seat- mirroring Dr. Reid's position, leaned over the edge as he chimed in, "If Emily is right about there being a victim pattern with the Unsub, it's a good thing this guy's dump site's been compromised."</p><p>Beck nodded in agreement. It would buy them time while he tried to find a new one, which would take away his focus on what he was doing to his victims and could possibly save a few of their lives.</p><p>"As soon as the Unsub knows that, he may feel pressured that we're onto him," Prentiss also added. "It could push him to make a mistake." The plane passengers all silently agreed, their eyes falling back to their own collective files</p><p>Beck was still a little weary after Hotchner's little scene earlier, but she tried not to glance to much at him through her bangs as she bowed her head down at her paper files and photos before her.</p><p>"<em>Hey</em>. <em>You.</em>"</p><p>Beck's head shot up at the noise of a woman speaking through what sounded like a phone speaker. She glanced around to see who could've been on the phone, but everyone seemed to be looking for the source of the voice same as her.</p><p>"<em>Uh, down here.</em>"</p><p>Beck glanced to her left and finally noticed the laptop Hotchner had set down earlier shortly after take off. On the screen seemed to be a projection of a blonde woman with thick-rimmed glasses and... plastic babies dangling from her ears that matched a plastic baby necklace. Hm. The brunette agent pushed the edges of the laptop so she could clearly see the woman behind the screen that she presumed had been the source of the voice.</p><p>"<em>Um, hi</em>," the woman beamed once Beck came into focus. "<em>You must be... the newbie. Well- not technically. You were at a higher position before you joined this one, so you're not really knew. But you're new to our team, so I just called... a CIA operative that probably used to assassinate people for a living a 'newbie.'</em>" The blonde visibly cringed and let out a groan.</p><p>Beck couldn't hide the smirk that played on her lips at this woman's antics.</p><p>"Technically, '<em>former</em>' CIA operative, but I'm not too big on titles," the brunette agent replied to her, trying to ease some of the humiliation she'd just single-handedly put herself through with the almost impressive word vomit.</p><p>Hotchner cleared his throat from across from her, signaling that he and the rest of the team also needed to talk with this blonde woman. She slowly turned the screen to face everyone else that had gathered around where they were seated at the table just as Hotchner took the time to introduce the two. "Agent Ryder, this is our Technical Analyst, Penelope Garcia. Garcia, this is Agent Rebecca Ryder."</p><p>The woman on the screen- <em>Penelope</em>- smiled and waved at the through the screen. "<em>Hi. Nice to finally put a name to the face and file.</em>" Beck chuckled softly. It didn't come to her surprise that they had looked her up, she didn't blame them for the curiosity and she also wasn't naïve enough not to know they were clearly cautious towards her.</p><p>"<em>Attention team members!</em>" Garcia addressed the rest of the passengers then. "<em>This killer guy continues to stoop to an all-time low of lows by posing as his victims. I looked into the email thing you asked me to and found out he's been manipulating two other families into thinking that everything was okay, even after they were reported missing.</em>"</p><p>Beck took the moment to glance up at Hotchner from through her bangs. He met her gaze and she raised a eyebrow as if to say 'told you so.'</p><p>"<em>One of the fake emails was from their daughter. She said she met this guy and was taking him to her favorite place, Australia, for a couple of</em> weeks." Beck's eyes shot up at that detail. "<em>Family contacted the Australian authorities after too much time had passed.</em>"</p><p>"This guy sure knows a lot of personal information about his victims," Morgan stated. It seems he too had caught onto what Beck had. He knew his victims. Well, it seems.</p><p>"Which would explain how he was able to sound so convincing to the third victim's family," Beck exclaimed. "They believed that bullshit lie about him leaving because they believed it to be something he would do. Same for the latest victim as well. If she seemed like the kind of person to disappear, it would be for something like running away with some boy to Australia."</p><p>"He knew his victims prior to killing them," Dr. Reid deduced from where he had reclaimed his seat beside her.</p><p>Prentiss leaned forward in her seat. "How did he get access to their email accounts?"</p><p>"<em>Screen name was the same, but the domain was different. The families never noticed,</em>" Garcia explained. Beck wanted to roll her eyes. Of course they hadn't. "<em>When I find more pieces of the puzzle, you'll know. Garcia out.</em>" Beck noticed the blonde throw a brief smile to her from the corner of the screen before her face vanished from off the laptop once more.</p><p>"This guy's creative." Hotchner briefly raised his eyebrows. Hm... So that was what a mildly impressed Aaron Hotchner looked like. She'd try to keep it in mind for future reference. "Let's see the details one more time just to make sure we haven't missed anything."</p><p>Beck definitely didn't bother hiding the way she let her head fall back against the seat at the mention of having to sort through the details again. They were already engrained in her head, how many more times did they need to go over this seemingly cut and dry assessment of the psycho. She turned her head to Dr. Reid beside her as the jet jolted once more. Her nails dug into the cushions between them as a result of the sudden movement. "How long until we land in Portland?"</p><p>"Three hours, thirty two minutes and forty seven seconds," he replied nonchalantly, his eyes not even leaving the papers set in front of him to glance at the watch on his wrist.</p><p>Beck raised an eyebrow. "You're keeping count?"</p><p>He took the time to turn his head to face her, a small ghost of a smile crossing his expression as he replied, "You're not?"</p><p>She pursed her lips back at him. Touché, Doctor... Touché.</p><p>
  <em>—</em>
</p><p>They had landed almost two seconds too late from Dr. Reid's prediction, but they had landed nonetheless so Beck wasn't one to complain. She was shocked with herself that she'd managed not to blow chunks the second her boot-clad feet hit the cement on the ground. But not only had she not thrown up, she'd also managed to walk to the car and sit in silence for a total of fifteen minutes the entirety of the drive to the Portland Field Office where they'd be setting up shop.</p><p>She had to admit, she'd never seen such coordination in a team before as they walked into the office as if they'd done so a hundred times. No one stopped to ask questions, no one stepped forward to take charge- Hell, besides her and Hotchner, there was hardly any tension amongst the team. This was a completely different environment than what she'd been so used to back at the CTU. Working her way into this group dynamic in order to gain some kind of trust or even any form of authority was going to be a lot more difficult than she'd initially thought when she had first taken Strauss's job.</p><p>Beck tried not to think about it, especially now when she was at the forefront of the battle field with a bunch of people who made a living off of studying people's behaviors. They were all electricians trying to figure out which cord to cut inside the bomb disguised as a radio- her. She was just worried they'd cut the single wire that could set her to explode and blow the whole thing, possibly even the team itself considering their own Section Chief had been the one to orchestrate it.</p><p>God, for someone trying not to think about something, she sure was doing a shitty job.</p><p>Thankfully, she didn't have to focus on it too hard because everything had started to go at a little bit of a quicker pace the minute they walked through the doors of the Field Office and were led to a conference room where a balding man in a suit and tie was already waiting for them.</p><p>"You must be the BAU. Special Agent Bill Calvert," the balding agent introduced himself, shaking JJ's hand as the rest of the team filed in.</p><p>"Hi. Jennifer Jareau," Beck heard her greet the man as she passed by them to haphazardly drop her go bag beneath the table just behind them, the rest of the team following in suit. "This is SSA Aaron Hotchner. These are Agents Morgan, Prentiss, Ryder, and Dr. Reid." Beck momentarily glanced over her shoulder at Agent Calvert so he knew to recognize her when JJ had said her name. He gave her a brief wave as he had the to the rest of the agents as their names were being called on like a roll call.</p><p>"I appreciate your help on the case," Calvert told them all in a genuinely grateful tone of voice. Beck picked up an accent definitely not from Milwaukee, and apparently, so had Morgan.</p><p>"So, you're from Boston, huh?" He prompted the other balding agent.</p><p>Calvert scoffed a bit. "The accent's kinda hard to miss in Oregon, right?" Morgan chuckled, Beck briefly allowing herself to smile alongside him.</p><p>Beck knew she couldn't keep up the cold demeanor she had at CTU- these people clearly wanted someone less robotic and emotionless unlike her old team had, and if she wanted to fit in, she had to be the version of herself these people wanted.</p><p>The cool and joking atmosphere inside the office was quickly sucked away when Hotchner ran head first into the point of why they were there. "We'd like to take a look around Jenny Wittman's apartment," he exclaimed in his usual monotone voice. Usually, she would've been all for getting straight to the point and to the case, but she noticed that this drill sergeant routine wasn't the usual for any of the team. This must've been new... which meant this must've been because of her... Unless maybe it was still about Gideon as she had figured was the real reason he was so distraught with her presence.</p><p>"I'd take you myself, but I'm waiting to meet with her family, so I'll have another agent drive you" Calvert explained apologetically.</p><p>"Thank you," Hotchner was short with his reply.</p><p>"I'll stay behind and work victimology," Prentiss stated as if she were giving orders. Beck had noticed something similar to that from the Bull Pin. These people weren't all obedient soldiers like Beck and her team had been at the CTU. In fact, rank or power didn't seem to mean very much to any of them. They all just worked as a single unit to solve these cases. Beck actually found it endearing and a brief breath of fresh air.</p><p>"Great. I could use some extra hands. Ryder, you're with me."</p><p>Fresh air Aaron Hotchner was currently polluting with his presence.</p><p>"We'll call you if we find anything," Hotchner called over his shoulder to Calvert as he began to lead Beck, Dr. Reid, and Morgan out of the office that they'd just arrived to only to be leaving so soon. There really were no breaks with these guys. Beck loved it.</p><p>"Call shotgun," Beck muttered beneath her breath the moment her and the three other men entered the elevator together to head down.</p><p>Beck hadn't ended up taking shotgun. She didn't feel the need to be so close to Hotchner, in fact, she preferred to distance herself as much as she could. Which led to her sharing the back seat with Dr. Reid who had spent the majority of the trip staring out of the window, his eyes moving almost as fast as their surroundings were moving past them in the car. She saw his lips moving as though he were whispering to himself, but she didn't bother to remark on it. He was quite the odd character...</p><p>When they finally arrived to the building Jenny Wittman had called her home. Beck could already smell the asbestos from the parking lot and it only got worse when they entered inside.</p><p>Reid and Morgan took the lead, leaving Beck to reluctantly follow behind with Hotchner close on her trail.</p><p>"Wittman's place is on the fourth floor," Reid remarked as they approached what looked to be just another door in this oddly built building. Beck soon realized that it was a sad excuse for an elevator after Morgan pressed a button off to the side, both men standing idle just before the painted door moaned and creaked as it slid open to reveal a smaller interior. "Can you get in there?"</p><p>Beck paused at the door, watching the two men file in one after another. When they were nestled in, they both turned expectantly to the two agents who were maintaining a safe distance from the contraption.</p><p>"I need the steps anyway," Beck muttered before swiftly turning on her heel and making a beeline for the sets of stairs just a few yards away to the right. She briefly heard Hotchner tell his two agents that he'd meet them up there as well before his footsteps grew closer to hers.</p><p>She shouldn't have been surprised when he managed to catch up to her in less than five strides.</p><p>Damn her tiny legs.</p><p>By the time they'd reached the second floor, he was right beside her.</p><p>She pretended to be focused on her footing as she scurried up the stairs. It was a little difficult to keep up with the man twice her height who somehow galloped up each step... The silence was full of tension until it was cut open by Hotchner around the time they'd gone halfway up the second story stairs.</p><p>"He's not a sadist."</p><p>Beck halted in her steps once she reached the small curve in the stairway just before reaching the third floor. She turned to glance at the Unit Chief. "What?"</p><p>"The Unsub isn't a sadist," he clarified to her, stopping a few stairs down from where she stood with just a slight height advantage. "You'd inferred that he was by using the slow deaths as a possible example for your reasoning to believing he were a sadist. It was a good catch for someone with such detail orientation, only you fail to see something as plain as day. The stronger evidence against your sadist theory is not the way he lets his victims die slowly, but in the way he discards of them so carelessly, as though they're nothing to him after- and possibly while- they're dead or dying. Clearly not in the nature of a sadist."</p><p>Beck could barely process everything happening at once. Number one being that he was speaking so much and so quickly it caught her off guard. This was the most he'd spoken since she'd met him and it was all so... unexpected. And number two being that in his fast paced speech- more like rant- was that he was discrediting a minor <em>inference </em>she'd made hours ago.</p><p>Hotchner made his way past her on the stairs and had made it just a few steps off the walkway between staircases before Beck had finally gathered her thoughts to form a coherent response. "It was a minor mistake."</p><p>She turned to see he had stopped to face her once more. "A mistake that could've cost someone their lives had you run with the theory and led the profile in the wrong direction."</p><p>"That's not my point," she bit back. "My point is that you could've just as easily corrected my minor slip up on the jet or even back at the briefing, but instead you chose to stay quiet about it until we were alone so you could scold me instead of help me, like a leader <em>should</em> do."</p><p>"I <em>shouldn't</em> have to hold your hand through something as simple as cut and dry as a psychopathic serial killer case, Agent Ryder," Hotchner retorted. "Your 'minor slip up' could have very well cost someone their life. So if you're unable to do what you were hired on to do, then I suggest you catch the next flight back to DC because one thing I won't tolerate on this team is someone who believes they're better than everyone else due to a prior higher ranking position." Beck had so much she wanted to say to <em>that</em>, but bit her tongue. No need to get fired her first day.</p><p>Hotchner took her silence as understanding. She watched as he turned on his heel and continued up the stairs.</p><p>She paused momentarily before following, allowing herself a second to reorganize herself and her priorities. She replayed the small reminder in the back of her mind that she couldn't kill him, he was vital and the rest of the team wouldn't exactly appreciate it if on her first day she'd murder their Unit Chief. Sure, she'd probably make it look like an accident, but she wouldn't want to risk it, either way.</p><p>Instead of going the bloody route, Beck took a deep breath in and a deep breath out. When she opened her eyes again, she could see Hotchner sparing her a glance as he started up the final set of stairs, almost as if to mock her.</p><p>"Bastard," she muttered beneath her breath before quickly catching up. It was when she'd reached the top of the last stair that she had started to hear some kind of alarm coming from down the hall. Had someone broken something? Was there a fire? Beck glanced up and down the hall and noticed no one else was really opening their door to see what all the commotion was about. It must've been a normal occurrence. God, this place was a real shit hole.</p><p>As Hotchner led the way down the hall to Wittman's place- Beck loosely following him- he'd paused momentarily in front of the elevator where Beck realized the ringing alarm sound had been coming from... Ha, ironic.</p><p>Just then, Morgan came bounding out of the elevator doors, nearly tripping on his feet as he stumbled out. "Hallelujah," he muttered as he took hold of the wall across from him and sprawled across it as though it was his anchor to the world.</p><p>Beck chuckled, watching as Dr. Reid slowly emerged from the tiny elevator as well, his eyes wide and his legs shaking as he struggled to grab hold of either side of the doors. He looked scared out of his mind and from the sounds of the alarm, she could only imagine why.</p><p>"Was that the alarm? You guys okay?" Hotchner asked his two team members, both of whom were still trying to catch their breath after the traumatic experience of whatever happened in that elevator.</p><p>"I'll get back to you on that," Reid gave a shaky reply. Beck snorted beneath her breath, disguising her laugh as a cough as she brought a hand up to her mouth to smother her smile. Hotchner couldn't be bother to acknowledge her or whatever had happened in the elevator as he continued on down the hall without them.</p><p>Beck continued to glance between both men, her amused smile still in place as she watched them both try to regain their balance and breath. Morgan was the first to push himself from off the wall, stumbling just a bit as he made his way to go follow Hotchner. Beck was close to follow, though she hovered for a moment just to make sure Dr. Reid didn't fall over. "I would tell you to try not to barf on the carpet, but it looks as though a couple of people might've already beat you to it," she told them jokingly as she grimaced down at the stained floor beneath her feet. "I also wouldn't recommend fainting on it either."</p><p>"Bite me, kid," Morgan grumbled back to her. She couldn't help but let a laugh escape this time.</p><p>As they walked to catch up with their Unit Chief, Beck leaned over to Dr. Reid to pour a little more salt in the wound. "You know, the odds of surviving an elevator free fall-"</p><p>"<em>Don't</em> tell me the odds," he cut her off swiftly in a manner similar to the way she'd snapped at him on the plane about his own statistics of survival.</p><p>Beck chuckled, turning back to face the front of her as she trailed closely behind Morgan and Hotchner until they eventually made it to the apartment of Jenny Wittman where her landlord was already waiting for them.</p><p>"The FBI was already here two days ago. Didn't find anything," he remarked as he opened the door for them to enter. He was a lanky man in a Hawaiin button-up, he carried himself with his arms hung low and his hair mused and messy. Clearly he wouldn't have been one to pry if there was something suspicious or interesting in one of his tenants' life, so she didn't really bother enough to focus on him and what he knew, but he talked to them anyway so she kept an ear open as she took a look around.</p><p>"Well, we're from the Behavioral Analysis Unit..." Dr. Reid trailed off as he went in one direction of the living space and Beck went to another.</p><p>She tuned out the conversation after that because she noticed a few things as she walked in. Number one: how fucking bright it was. Not a single window had it's blinds closed or the curtains drawn as if she wanted it to feel as open in the living space as she could manage. Number two: all of her furniture was oddly placed in the middle of each room; the dining table, the shelves, even the TV wasn't off in a corner or against the wall. And finally, number three: it was a fucking mess- as though this girl never went outside and just hibernated here like a bear.</p><p>Whoever said the eyes were windows to the soul was full of shit because the way a person lived said a lot more than their eyes.</p><p>"Guys," Morgan's assertive call grabbed Beck's attention. "Come take a look at this." He gestured to the room he'd come out of and started back in, Beck, Hotchner, Dr. Reid, and the landlord following close behind until they were all squished within the restroom.</p><p>At first, she didn't really see what was so interesting about whatever he found in Jenny Wittman's bathroom, until he began to point it out.</p><p>"There's bath products all around the tub, but she never turned the shower on."</p><p>"What makes you say that?" The landlord asked skeptically as though he were offended that she hadn't used his perfectly good shower.</p><p>To answer his question, Morgan pulled open the box shower door to reveal that it had been filled with boxes and belongings. "It's got nothing but boxes inside. She used it for storage."</p><p>"Huh," Beck huffed as she crossed her arms. Then it all started to make sense to her. The open windows, the centered furniture, the living as though she never went out.</p><p>Dr. Reid turned to glance at the landlord from past Beck's shoulder from where she stood leaning against the doorway, her eyes still trained on the storage shower. "Uh, did anything ever strike you as odd about Jenny?"</p><p>She didn't really expect to gain any useful information from the landlord, but he surprised her when he replied, "You know what? When she moved in here two months ago, she walked up and down those stairs a hundred times. She wouldn't use the elevator."</p><p>"Pfft," Morgan scoffed. "I don't blame her."</p><p>"That's it," the words left Beck's mouth before she could help it. "She's claustrophobic." Dr. Reid pursed his lips and contemplated it, Morgan doing the same thing. Both agent's faces scrunching up before simultaneously shrugging in silent agreement. Hotchner, of course, looked less than pleased but didn't bother commenting, so she went on to deepen the wound. "You think it's a coincidence that she was killed by asphyxiation?"</p><p>Beside her, the landlord coughed as though he was covering a choking noise. She winced slightly, having forgotten he was there. Whoops.</p><p>Hotchner sent her a glare before pushing past her and the landlord to leave, Beck reluctantly following and throwing a slightly apologetic look to the landlord before dropping her gaze down to her shoes. She cast one more glance at the apartment as she left.</p><p>She was just a scared girl, killed in the way she feared most. If her theory was right, that she had been a claustrophobic killed by her phobia, the person that did this to her not only had gained her trust in order for her to open up about her fear, but also betrayed it in the worst possible ways: by using it and killing her in way that she feared the most. When she found this guy, she was definitely going to make sure he got his due punishment... Even if she had to step over Hotchner to make sure of it.</p><p>
  <em>—</em>
</p><p>Hotchner was cold to Beck the entire ride back to the office and didn't even bother to acknowledge her when she'd asked aloud why there was a large crowd of cops and detectives all gathered as if they were waiting for them in the large room.</p><p>Dr. Reid took pity on her and explained, "We're delivering the profile."</p><p>"Right," she muttered beneath her breath and followed behind as Hotchner and Morgan took the lead to the front of the room. She trailed closely behind Dr. Reid, making sure not to get in the way or draw attention herself and to allow herself to watch and listen to everyone else. She was curious to see how the team worked so close-knit with the local authorities, and she needed to get a broader look at how the other team member's dynamic worked.</p><p>Everyone was scattered throughout the room, photos of what Prentiss had mentioned was the geographical profile was set up on one board and the photos and break down of the other bodies were on the second board. JJ and Hotchner were seated at the table in front of the room of agents, Prentiss was standing off to the side and Morgan opted to take the lead by standing near the boards. They had all already taken their places amongst each other, but Beck still felt out of place herself. She was better off leaning against the wall nearby to observe just as much as the other agents and officers in the room.</p><p>"You know, you don't have to isolate yourself." Beck briefly glanced over her shoulder to find Dr. Reid had joined her in standing off to the side.</p><p>She shrugged. "I'm new, inexperienced with... delivering profiles," she explained. "I think I'll just go where I'm told and stay out of the way for now." The brunette was content with turning back and going back to listening to Morgan and Hotchner droning on about what a profile was and explaining the likes to the local badges, but she was distracted once more when Dr. Reid attempted to continue their conversation.</p><p>"Hotch didn't tell you something, did he?" Beck furrowed her eyebrows at him from over her shoulder, a silent question. "It's just... you two seemed tense back at the apartment. And it took you a little longer than it should have to take the stairs and reach the elevator."</p><p>Beck frowned. "I could've stopped to tie my shoe."</p><p>Dr. Reid gave her a sly smile, not even needing to glance down at her feet before he retorted, "In your boots- really?"</p><p>She shrugged. "Worth a try."</p><p>"You're deflecting."</p><p>"And you're nosy."</p><p>He raised an eyebrow at her and eventually she gave in.</p><p>"You're man Hotchner is a hardass, but it's nothing I can't handle," she told him. "So- like I said: for now, I'll just let you guys take the lead on this. You know a lot more than I do."</p><p>"You know enough to be here," he challenged. "Shouldn't that qualify you to be here just as much as the rest of us?"</p><p>He had a point- and from the almost smug look on his face, he knew it too. Still, she pursed her lips and turned back to the presentation.</p><p>"Okay- we know this guy used Wildwood Trail as his personal graveyard for six months. That site's been blown for him now, which means that he's been forced to change part of his M.O.," Morgan explained as he made his way through the tables around him.</p><p>"Which won't be easy for somebody who thrives on being in control," Hotchner chimed in from where he sat at one of said tables. Beck rolled her eyes at the irony of his analysis. "The reason that he's gotten away with these first three murders is that he's been meticulous at every stage; from how he chooses his victims to their torture and their burial." Beck noted that and couldn't help but ponder it. If he were so meticulous, especially in just these first three, he couldn't have just come up with such well thought out ways to capture, isolate, then cover up these killings.</p><p>Maybe these weren't his first... These were just his found.</p><p>But, like she'd told Dr. Reid- she was staying out of the way. If that was what Hotchner wanted, that was what she would do. For now, at least. Beck still intended on making good on what she'd promised to herself- that she'd get justice for these victims even if she had to do it over Hotchner to get it done.</p><p>"To us, his victims appear to be nonspecific," Prentiss went on to continue from where Hotchner had left off. "Other than being new to Portland, all they seem to have shared was a torturous death."</p><p>"But you think the Unsub chooses them for another reason, too?" Beck glanced down at Agent Calvert where he was seated at the table just to her and Dr. Reid's right.</p><p>Prentiss nodded. "We think so."</p><p>"Uh, the tortures lack a sexual component, which is incredibly rare," Dr. Reid spoke up from behind her. "I think it's more about, uh, not necessarily about exerting power, but more like overcompensating for a lack of it." When he'd finished his explanation, he made sure to glance down at Beck from where she stood in front of him. It was as though he were telling her '<em>see, I told them what I though- did that really seem so hard?.' </em>Beck gave a small shake of her head and turned back to the front of the room.<em> Little shit</em>.</p><p>"This guy craves control," Morgan stated, ending his odd pacing around the room by taking a seat at the edge of the table beside Beck and Reid. "He's coming from a place of weakness, trying to demonstrate strength. Now we see this a lot in Unsubs who've been abused."</p><p>Hotchner took this time to stand up for the first time in the presentation. "The lack of sexual assault could be as simple as the fact that he's impotent- something that he's trying to hide." Beck clenched her jaw when she saw him give her a brief glare. It wasn't too direct, but she knew enough to pick on even the smallest of actions- and she knew enough to know that that one was directed to her. <em>A</em><em>sshole.</em></p><p>"A man this obsessed with control most likely feels powerless in his everyday life," Prentiss chimed in. "So, he would crave stability- security. He's most likely married. If he is impotent, he could keep up appearances by adopting children."</p><p>There was a small pause between explanations. Reid took that time to use his boney elbow to nudge Beck slightly. She gave him a small glare from over her shoulder. He gave her a pointed look. <em>Little. Shit.</em></p><p>Beck groaned and shifted her feet before turning back to the room and finally speaking out- starting with her earlier observation she'd made. "Going off of what Agent Hotchner had said about him being a literal control freak-" There was a small, collective chuckle throughout the room. "If he loses said control- being captured or thwarted- he'd most likely lash out and take his own life in an attempt to still hold onto what little control he'd have left rather than give it up."</p><p>Beck looked out over the small sea of agents that jotted down what she'd said in their notes and took note of the more direct glare she was getting from Hotchner. If she weren't so anchored to her professionalism right now, she would've stuck her tongue out at him.</p><p>"The victims' lack of defensive wounds suggest that they willingly put themselves in danger, so someone of authority or otherwise easily trusted put them up to this." Finishing his explanation, Morgan glanced over his shoulder at Beck and sent her a wink. She pursed her lips to keep from smiling.</p><p>"Also, the victims' families were led to believe their loved ones were alive and well through emails written by this murderer," Prentiss continued the presentation. Hotchner adding on, "He's calculated. And he's intelligent, and... we're going to have to do something that he's not expecting."</p><p>"Like what?" Beck hadn't even realized she'd asked what she was thinking aloud until Hotchner turned to glance at her from out of the corner of his eye. <em>Oops</em>.</p><p>"Like warn his potential victims," he answered. Hm, that was a little bland... Beck still kept that little piece of advice in her back pocket still- about doing something he wouldn't expect. She had a feeling she might need that later.</p><p>
  <em>—</em>
</p><p>Making good on his 'unexpected move' against the Unsub, Hotchner had JJ hold a press conference where she delivered a small- watered down profile to the public. All throughout the rest of the day, Beck found herself sitting behind a phone talking nonstop with people across Portland- and the greater of Oregon it seemed- who were worried or concerned about friends and family that had just moved to the city. It was as though everyone and their mother was calling in, but all Beck was focused on was her little notepad she had in front of her.</p><p>
  <em>Torture. Slow. Meaningful.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jenny Wittman- claustrophobic and killed by asphyxiation. Coincidence?</em>
</p><p>
  <em> NOT A SADIST </em>
</p><p>
  <em>What would drive someone to kill someone so personally?</em>
</p><p>What would drive someone to kill someone so personally- that was the question.</p><p>The Unsub was clearly and unquestionably close to his victims. He knew personal details- like how one of the victim's favorite places to go was Australia, like how another victim was a flake that would be most likely prone to catching a train and heading out. He knew enough to make himself sound like them. He knew enough about Jinny Wittman to kill her via what she feared most.</p><p>Beck went back to jotting on her notepad.</p><p>
  <em>Victims went willingly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Lack of sexual component.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Personal details.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Authority figure- or someone they trust.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Fears...?</em>
</p><p>"Ryder."</p><p>Beck glanced up from her notepad to see Morgan standing at the the officer doorway.</p><p>"It's coming up on almost eleven thirty... what are you still doing here?"</p><p>The brunette furrowed her eyebrows and spared a glance up to the clock on the wall. Sure enough- 11:30. Huh. Had she really been taking calls for six hours? No wonder her stomach was growling, she hadn't eaten in over thirteen.</p><p>"Guess I got caught up in the case," she shrugged.</p><p>Morgan scoffed. "Yeah, I feel you on that one... Hey, did you wanna grab something to eat before we head back to the hotel?"</p><p>Beck frowned. "Thanks, but... I think I'll stick around here. Try and see if maybe I can piece something together overnight."</p><p>Morgan furrowed his eyebrows, but didn't press the subject. "Alright, well... just don't overwork yourself. I'll see you tomorrow." She gave him a grimaced kind of smile before watching him leave.</p><p>Her eyes fell back onto her notepad, straining to see any kind of connection... pattern... puzzle piece. Anything...</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>She dropped her forehead onto the table and groaned.</p><p>
  <em>—</em>
</p><p>It was around seven in the morning when Beck was back where she had started in that same office again. Following her hours on end of just sitting and staring at her notepad, she'd left at around midnight and picked up a Happy Meal from McDonald's before turning in at her hotel room at around two. She'd only had about three hours of sleep before she'd gotten the call at around five about the fourth body washing up in some small lake a few miles away outside of some suburban.</p><p>A jogger had found the body of Patrick Walker.</p><p>A young boy, blonde, early 20's, a student... drowned.</p><p>Beck tapped the end of her ballpoint pen against the notepad over and over. Subconsciously, she did it in a repetitive beat- not to a song, per say, but in Morse code. She'd learned as a teenager and when she was always stuck on something and couldn't put your foot on it, she'd just tap it over and over again.</p><p><em>Tap. Tap. Tap-hold. Tap. </em>Pause. <em>Tap. Tap. Tap-hold. </em>Pause. <em>Tap-hold. Tap. Tap-hold. Tap. </em>Pause. <em>Tap-hold. Tap. Tap-hold.</em></p><p>Then start again.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p><p>Her adopted father hadn't found it funny, but- for some unknown reason- it helped her think.</p><p>She'd jotted everything down on her notepad that she kept staring at intently as though she were trying to memorize it. There was no need; the minute she'd written it all onto the page, she'd had it seared into her memory. Still, there was always something about looking at the words over and over again that was proven to help her see it in a new light or all together somehow.</p><p><em>Tap. Tap. Tap-hold. Tap. </em>Pause. <em>Tap. Tap. Tap-hold. </em>Pause. <em>Tap-hold. Tap. Tap-hold. Tap. </em>Pause. <em>Tap-hold. Tap. Tap-hold.</em></p><p>Hotchner had sent Prentiss and Morgan to go see the body with Calvert. Apparently, Prentiss had gotten the call off the tip line about Patrick when he'd initially gone missing. Prentiss had followed up at his apartment and the only odd thing she came up with was that aside from following a strict routine every day, the only other odd thing the land lady had told her was that he had specifically asked her for an apartment for a walk-in shower, and not a bath tub.</p><p>"Fire. Hanging. Asphyxiation," Hotchner listed off as he stood before the profiling board beside Dr. Reid, his eyes boring into each photo of the bodies on the wall as though he were trying to sear whatever he was missing into his brain, similar to what Beck was doing. "Now we've got a drowning."</p><p>"He was afraid of drowning... and he died by drowning." Hotchner, Dr. Reid, and JJ all turned to glance down at her from where she sat, her feet propped up onto the table a few feet away from the boards. She glanced up from her notepad to look at Hotchner through her bangs, "Still think it's a coincidence."</p><p>"What do you mean?" The Supervisory Agent prompted her.</p><p>"There are six elevator related deaths per year..." Beck and Hotchner both threw confused glances to Dr. Reid as he muttered the odd statistic beneath his breath as though he were onto something. If he was, they had not a clue about what it was just from that statistic.</p><p>"Where's that from?" Beck asked.</p><p>The doctor's head abruptly shot up as he took a step towards the speaker in the center of the table that was connected to the missing two members of the team back at the lake with Patrick Walker's body. "When Morgan freaked when we got stuck in the elevator- <em>that's it</em>!"</p><p><em>"You got stuck in an elevator?" </em>Prentiss prompted to an unseen Morgan on the other end of the line.</p><p>There was a scoff. <em>"</em>I <em>freaked?"</em></p><p>Beck glanced up at Dr. Reid with an amused grin on her lips, recalling the memory of the way both of them looked when they came out of that elevator. "Well, that's not important. Here's what is-" She thought she saw a small blush on his cheeks before he quickly changed the subject. "If you look at the M.O.'s of the victims, what do they all have in common?"</p><p>"They could all be classified as anxiety disorders." Beck and Dr. Reid glanced at one another after having come to the same conclusion simultaneously.</p><p>Reid was quick to turn back to his head, "It's right out of '<em>The Diagnostics and Statistical Manual'. </em>It lists five subtypes of phobias-"</p><p>"Animal, Environmental, Injury, Situational, and other," Beck listed off as she dropped her feet from off the table to lean forward in her seat.</p><p>Hotchner crossed his arms, glancing between the pair. "Most of these are Environmental and Situational."</p><p>"Exactly," Reid nodded. He threw a glance back behind him where Beck sat. She imagined he was thinking the same thing about how in sync they were with their explanations, their conclusions and their accidental communication as though they were tuned into the same wavelength: like they were back at CTU when they'd first met.</p><p>"So Ryder was right..." Beck could've laughed at how Hotchner looked physically ill after saying those words. "It's all about fear. These people are being killed by their fears."</p><p>"Which begs the next important question," Beck stood from her seat to stand in front of the board, only her eyes weren't resting on the bodies. They landed on all the smiling faces of the living versions of these dead bodies. "Who would <em>you </em>tell about your worst fears?"</p><p>Hotchner turned to glance at her at the same time that she turned to throw a sidelong glance up at him.</p><p>"Ryder and Reid- go meet up with Prentiss and Morgan to canvas the neighborhoods near Patrick Walker's apartment," Hotchner barked out the order as he turned back to the speaker behind Beck. "There's bound to be some kind of service or advertisement to do with fears that draws these victims directly to our Unsub."</p><p>Beck turned to her opposite side, Reid was already holding up the SUV keys in his hand as he beamed. "I'm driving," he mouthed to her.</p><p>She couldn't help but smile as she rolled her eyes and started on her way out the office door, the doctor not far behind her.</p><p>
  <em>—</em>
</p><p>"Do you do that often?"</p><p>Beck turned to her left where Dr. Reid was seated behind the wheel. His eyes hadn't left the road ahead of him, but she didn't peg him as someone with very good hand-eye coordination so she was grateful for his focus as he drove.</p><p>She tilted her head slightly. "Do what?"</p><p>"Tap in Morse code when you're thinking," he clarified, this time he did peer at her out of the corner of his eye.</p><p>She chuckled, turning her attention back to the road. "Sometimes. Where'd you learn Morse code from anyway, <em>Doctor</em>?"</p><p>"Got bored one Summer," he shrugged nonchalantly. Beck snorted. "Where did you learn, <em>Agent</em>?"</p><p>"It was apart of my coursework for the... program I was apart of," she vaguely explained. "My dad got pissed when I taught my brother just the one word. When we were bored at the dinner table, we'd just tap it out over and over again; laughing until my dad finally caught on and sent us to bed." She smiled briefly at the memory.</p><p>It was odd; talking about her family and personal life. With a coworker, no less. Beck's smile vanished as she shifted in her seat. Dr. Reid must've taken the hint because he didn't bother to push any further and the rest of the ride was spent in silence.</p><p>Eventually, they made it to Patrick Walker's apartment building where an identical black SUV was already parked out front, the two familiar agents waiting for them on the sidewalk nearby.</p><p>Dr. Reid had a little bit of a struggle turning the large vehicle into a parallel park just behind the first SUV, Beck bit back her smile as her head continued to hit the back of her seat continuously until he eventually put the car in park.</p><p>Beck was still struggling to keep her laughter at bay as she unbuckled her seatbelt and had started to exit the vehicle. It was around the time that she had gotten out to inspect his parking job and noticed the almost three yards of space between the two vehicles that she snorted.</p><p>The doctor had walked around the front when he noticed the space as well as the smile on her face. "Shut up," he muttered as he passed by her to get to the sidewalk. She was still laughing by the time they'd walked up the sidewalk to meet up with Prentiss and Morgan.</p><p>The two agents glanced curiously between Beck and the Doctor. "What?" Morgan prompted.</p><p>"Nothing," Reid replied almost as quickly as Beck had managed to sober up from her giggling.</p><p>She cleared her throat. "So, where are we starting with first?"</p><p>Prentiss and Morgan decidedly let the pair drop the subject.</p><p>"Well, Prentiss and JJ narrowed down where we should start looking," Morgan stated.</p><p>"Just like we're profiling him, he profiled his victims and the best way to lure them in," Prentiss began to explain. "We're looking for some kind of advertisement in places that new residents frequent- dry cleaners, gyms, coffee shops, the dentist, laundromats."</p><p>Morgan gestured to a building down the opposite side that Beck and Dr. Reid had come from. "According to the land lady Prentiss talked to, Patrick Walker frequented a gym not far down the block. Seems like a good place to start. Ryder- you with me?"</p><p>Beck shrugged. "Guess so."</p><p>"We'll go check the laundromat down the street," Prentiss gestured to the opposite side of the block. "We'll meet back up there."</p><p>The gym was large, smelt like sweat and feet, and was filled to the brim with men that were punching away her problems. It reminded Beck of the old gym Hawks used to take her to on the weekends he'd take to visit her in Texas. She was definitely a fighter... and so was Patrick Walker, apparently.</p><p>"A boxing gym," Beck murmured as they entered the building. "He had to have been lured into the water; he would've put up a fight if someone tried to physically drown him. But- if our theory is correct- why would he willingly get into the water if he was aquaphobic?"</p><p>Morgan scoffed as the pair slowly made their way to the bulletin board off to the side of all the punching bags and boxing rings. "You got me there. You couldn't pay me enough to do what I fear most."</p><p>Beck glanced up at all the posters, pamphlets, and advertisements all along the corkboard. The agent ran her fingers along the bottom edge as her eyes ran across every word and photo, date and time. Nothing that jumped out at her that might've been suspicious or had anything to do with fear or even therapy. Therapy. Right, as if any of these steroid heads would be paid any amount of money to take up an ad for therapy they got from their gym.</p><p>
  <em>"You couldn't pay me enough to do what I fear most."</em>
</p><p>"That could be it..."</p><p>Morgan peered down at her, his thick eyebrows furrowed. "What?"</p><p>"Money," Beck replied. "What if this guy is paying his victims to try and face their fears?"</p><p>Morgan blinked once as he processed her explanation. "That would explain... a lot, actually." Beck nodded in agreement. "Let's head back to laundromat. Maybe Reid or Prentiss found something similar to that there."</p><p>Beck gave a noncommittal hum before starting on her way out of the sweaty gym. But before she had left through the glass doors, she paused momentarily to glance back at the boxing rings once more.</p><p>
  <em>"You're a natural fighter, kiddo. Dai? Rebecca? What am I supposed to call you now anyway?" A younger Bruno Hawks asked the little ten year old in front of him in the middle of the ring.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Little Rebecca Ryder shrugged. "I dunno... Mom calls me Rebecca, but... I don't like it."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Why not?"</em>
</p><p><em>She shrugged again. "I dunno. Doesn't sound like it's my name</em> <em>."</em></p><p>
  <em>"How about Becca?" He prompted, his boxing glove-clad hand tapping the side of her head as she bounced past him with a giggle. "You think you're more of a Becca?"</em>
</p><p><em>She made a face. "No... But I'm not a '</em>Dai<em>' either," she grimaced at the old name.</em></p><p>
  <em>"Hm," Hawks hummed. "Reba?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Ewwww," she drew a face and laughed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Well, what name do you think you seem more like?" He tilted his head slightly to the side.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Mm... Not Reba. Not Rebecca. Not Becca." With each name she listed off, she threw a hard punch against Hawks' abdomen. Eventually, she landed a harsh blow against his groin which caused him to double over in pain.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He groaned. "Son of a b-"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Beck!" The little girl jumped up in victory. "Beck. I like that name."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hawks began to compose himself again. "Beck? That's the name you want?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She nodded, her head bobbing as her feet bounced up and down, her fists coming up once more. She was ready for round... what was it- ten? "Beck! I like it."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I dunno, kiddo. Sounds a little... boy-ish, yeah?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I can beat up boys, can't I?" She jibed, running over to throw a smaller jab at his side before jumping back away.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hawks laughed. "Yes. Yes, you can."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Beck.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ryder.</em>
</p><p>"Ryder."</p><p>Beck glanced to her side as the memory faded away. Morgan was standing by the door peering after her. "You alright?" He asked.</p><p>She nodded and cleared her throat before replying, "Fine. Let's get to that laundromat." With that, she brushed past him to get out of the gym and away from the memories attached to it.</p><p>Morgan, once again, didn't bother to push the subject. One thing about profilers was that they could take the hint to drop shit, apparently. Dr. Reid. Prentiss. Morgan. Hotchner was questionable... But either way, it was something she was grateful for as her and Morgan walked side by side to the laundromat in silence.</p><p>Eventually, the pair made it to the laundromat where Prentiss and Dr. Reid were standing amongst the rows of washing machines, their attention focused on something plastered to the end of one row.</p><p>"Hey," Morgan greeted the pair as he leaned against a machine nearby, Beck following his lead and jumping up to sit on the one next to his. "Well, Patrick Walker just joined a pretty sweet boxing gym, but Ryder here has another theory-" He gestured to her where she sat.</p><p>"What if the Unsub is setting up a ruse to get his victims to come to him. Something like a therapist or some kind of a doctor that's paying people to try and face their fears somehow?" She prompted with a shrug of her shoulders.</p><p>"Would explain the lack of defensive wounds and why these victims so willingly put themselves into situations that scared the crap out of them," Morgan chimed in.</p><p>Prentiss smirked. "Funny you should say that." The brunette handed Morgan a yellow flyer. Beck leaned over his shoulder to read it.</p><p>"The <em>Goodman </em><em>Institute</em>?" Beck read aloud. On it was some kind of advertisement that offered people a chance to be apart of a 'controlled research project' for $100 to get over their 'anxieties'. The stubs on the bottom looked to be untouched, save for the one at the end that had been ripped off. Beck glanced over that ripped edge and frowned. Patrick Walker.</p><p>"Well, I think we should go over victim number two's coffee shop," Morgan concluded. "See if any of these are hanging around." He held up the yellow piece of paper to the group.</p><p>Prentiss frowned. "If all of our victims saw these fliers, we just figured out how he casts his net, she stated.</p><p>"You think we could trace the number on one of those stubs?" She asked Morgan, gesturing to the pieces of paper on the bottom of the flyer with a big, bold phone number at the bottom.</p><p>He nodded. "Yeah. I'll get it to Garcia, see what she can find."</p><p>The group of agents moved out, Beck jumping down from her spot on the washing machine to follow after Morgan and Prentiss. She fell into step with Dr. Reid who seemed to be eating pretzels.</p><p>"Hey, where'd you get those?"</p><p>He glanced down at the bag she was gesturing at then smiled. "Oh- snack machine." Beck turned to where he was pointing at over her shoulder. There, sitting in the middle of the laundromat was a snack machine filled to the brim with sweats and baked goods.</p><p>"Hold on!" She called to the group before practically skipping over to the thing. She quickly fished out three dollars from her pocket and inserted it in. She didn't even need to debate with what she wanted; she just got down the number, punched it in, and waited patiently for it to fall. The sweet, glorious feeling she got when it eventually did made her beam with joy as she reached in and pulled out the small bag of sour gummy worms she had just bought.</p><p>Once she had her snack in hand, she had to jog to catch up with the three agents waiting for her at the laundromat entrance. Beck sheepishly smiled as she popped the bag open and tossed a gummy worm into her mouth.</p><p>Prentiss and Morgan both glanced over their shoulders at the pair behind them that were smiling down at their bags of food. It was like looking at two children. The pair of agents exchanged amused looks, but merely shook their head as they continued on their walk.</p><p>It had taken less than half an hour for the group to make it to Jenny Wittman's coffee shop. Reid and Beck stayed by the SUV while Morgan and Prentiss went in to check the bulletin board for any of those Goodman Institute fliers.</p><p>While they waited, the pair finished off their bags of snacks.</p><p>"You know, if you eat over a hundred pounds of gummy worms in one sitting, your body could potentially shut down from sugar overload," Dr. Reid stated abruptly while they leaned against the car on the sidewalk.</p><p>"Hm," Beck hummed as she licked the leftover sugar from off her fingers. "If I die by gummy worms- I went out the way I wanted to." She turned to smile up at him. "What about if you ate over a hundred pounds of pretzels? What happens then?"</p><p>"Dehydration, most likely," he answered. "All that salt would have a much faster effect on the body than the sugar. You'd most likely start to suffer from lethargy, lack of energy, extreme fatigue- all symptoms of hypernatremia. If left untreated, you'd probably die."</p><p>Beck shrugged. "I'd challenge you to see what kills who faster- sugar or salt- but I'd imagine we'd both be too dead to reap the benefits of who wins and who loses," she joked. "Who knows? Maybe the rest of the team could document our scientific findings after we're gone."</p><p>Reid chuckled. "Yeah. Maybe Morgan could write the thesis while we're being lowered into our graves," he replied sarcastically. Beck snorted in response.</p><p>This was nice. Joking with a coworker. Eating gummy worms without being mocked. She would've never been able to do something like this with the CTU. Maybe that's what drew her to this job, this team. It was the reason why she was doing Strauss's dirty work...</p><p>Beck was struck with an idea: she wouldn't be getting much from Morgan in the terms of dirt on Hotchner. He was surprisingly too self aware and suspicious. Same with Prentiss. She could've talked with that bubbly Garcia personality, but something told Beck that she wasn't exactly close to the polar opposite of her personality, Aaron Hotchner.</p><p>Dr. Spencer Reid was probably her best bet with getting close to the team and to Hotchner.</p><p>"So, Morgan isn't too big on the scientific aspect of things? Or is that more of a you thing, Dr. Reid?" She prompted as she crumpled up the empty bag of snacks and tossed it into a nearby trash can.</p><p>"I guess you could say that," Dr. Reid replied. "I do have the highest IQ on the team and about three PhD's under my belt."</p><p>Beck blinked in surprise. "<em>Three</em>? How old are you?"</p><p>"Twenty-six," he answered. "What about you?"</p><p>Twenty four. Four PhD's.</p><p>"<em>What</em> about me?"</p><p>He gave her a small smile. "It's just... you pointed out the manner of death and picked up on physical forensic evidence from one of the victims just from the photos. You have some amount of education and experience in anatomy and forensic science." Hm. He was pretty good.</p><p>"You couldn't find anything about me from your initial online sweep of my files?" Beck taunted him, grinning at the slight blush that blossomed across his face.</p><p>He frowned slightly. "I didn't... That wasn't really me-"</p><p>"I know. That technical analyst of yours was pretty thorough."</p><p>"But not thorough enough," the doctor remarked. "Apparently, someone manually sealed past excursions and the education portion of your file."</p><p>"Hm. Odd," Beck hummed, her eyes focused on her feet as she tried not to meet his eyes.</p><p>"Yeah. Odd that whoever did it sealed education, but not your personal records. Where you lived, who your parents were, how many siblings you have." Beck's facial expression remained stoic. If he was trying to get a rise out of her, his tactics weren't working. Or maybe he really was just genuinely curious about her like she was him. "Why would someone cover up their education, but not their family?"</p><p>Beck shrugged once more. "Maybe they just wanted this job to be different from the last," she muttered as she kicked a pebble along the sidewalk.</p><p>Dr. Reid opened his mouth as if he was going to say something else when Morgan and Prentiss came rushing out of the coffee shop, distraught looks on their faces. Morgan was just hanging up the phone when they had reached Dr. Reid and Beck.</p><p>"What is it?" Beck asked at the same time Reid prompted his teammates, "What's wrong?"</p><p>Prentiss held up one of the same yellow flyers that they had found in the laundromat. "This has been up since last Summer."</p><p>Beck felt her blood run cold. "You think he could have more victims than just the few we've uncovered so far?"</p><p>"With a time gap that wide since he first set up this lure- yeah," Morgan replied. "I already called Calvert, he's meeting us at the Trail where we found the first couple of bodies now. Hotch wants you two to head back to the Field Office, see if you can start to figure out who this Goodman guy is."</p><p>Reid and Beck both nodded in unison as they watched Prentiss and Morgan walk off to the first SUV a few feet away.</p><p>Just before they drove off, Reid began to scavenge through his pockets. "Hm.. that's weird. I could've sworn-" That's when he heard the jingling.</p><p>He glanced up to find Beck leaning against the side of the car with the SUV key dangling off her index finger, her grin was almost to the ends of her face. "I'm driving."</p><p>With that, she skipped along to the driver's side of the SUV, leaving a very confused Reid still standing on the sidewalk. She laughed when she heard him shout out, "How did you even get those out of my pocket without me feeling it?!"</p><p>
  <em>—</em>
</p><p>Back at the Field Office, most of the agents were on edge after just coming back from the Trail that the Unsub had left his mass grave. They'd dug up at least twelve more bodies, twelve different causes of death.</p><p>Beck found herself standing in front of the board that Hotchner and Reid had compiled from all the new bodies found. It was too early to ID the bodies, but with the help of a few ME's and Beck, they were able to deduce all the ways they were killed.</p><p>"Blunt force trauma to the head," Beck listed off. "Most likely caused from a fall from high escalation."</p><p>"Acrophobia- fear of heights," Reid placed the label beneath the picture of the body recovered on the board.</p><p>Beck moved onto the next. "Death by poison. Multiple bite marks from snakes found all along the arms and legs of the victim."</p><p>"Ophiophobia- fear of snakes."</p><p>"Asphyxiation... again."</p><p>"Claustrophobia. Pretty common."</p><p>"Strangulation. Physical strangulation, not hanging."</p><p>"Pseudodysphagia- fear of choking or strangulation."</p><p>"Two more burnt to death," Beck winced at the images.</p><p>"Encavmaphobia- fear of burning alive."</p><p>"And four exsanguinations..." Beck finished the list with a sigh.</p><p>"Hemophobia- fear of blood." Dr. Reid placed the final card beneath the last four photos.</p><p>Beck pursed her lips as they both took steps back and surveyed the board of dead bodies. So much death. Slow torture. Fear.</p><p>"This guy is... a new breed of all kinds of fucked up," she muttered beneath her breath. "How is he not a sadist? What does he get from killing people in the way they fear the most?"</p><p>Dr. Reid's forehead creased as he glanced down at the woman beside him. "What makes you think the Unsub isn't a sadist?"</p><p>She shook her head slightly. "Hotchner said something about the Unsub not being a sadist. Apparently, overlooking that he isn't could lead to some <em>catastrophic</em> outcome according to him."</p><p>She had tried to mask the bitterness in her tone, but she shouldn't have been surprised when he picked it up almost immediately. "Hotch is giving you a hard time, too?"</p><p>It was Beck's turn to glance up at him in confusion. "'<em>Too</em>'? So, he's a hardass with everyone then?" She chuckled as she crossed her arms over her chest, leaning her body weight against the table behind them.</p><p>He shrugged. "He's always hard on everyone, but... Gideon leaving is really taking it's toll on everyone- him, especially."</p><p>That made Beck's small smirk vanish almost instantaneously. Gideon. Of course, she'd made that passive aggressive remark about Gideon leaving earlier yesterday when she'd first met with Hotchner in his office with Strauss, but she hadn't actually factored in how difficult it must've been for the team and it's dynamic after losing one of it's core members.</p><p>She let out a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry. I know how much Gideon meant to this team," she told him truthfully. "Still- it'd be easier on everyone if Hotchner just pulled the stick out of his ass instead of biting my head off every chance he gets." Dr. Reid awkwardly cleared his throat and she winced. "Sorry... off topic."</p><p>There was beat of silence between the pair. Neither spoke as their eyes rested on the board of dead bodies and phobias and causes of death. Beck began to nervously tap the side of her arm while her arms were still crossed.</p><p><em>Tap. Tap. Tap-hold. Tap. </em>Pause. <em>Tap. Tap. Tap-hold. </em>Pause. <em>Tap-hold. Tap. Tap-hold. Tap. </em>Pause. <em>Tap-hold. Tap. Tap-hold.</em></p><p>She heard a soft chuckle from beside her.</p><p>Just then, the office door swung open as the rest of the team came hurdling in. They all looked exhausted, most of them having just returned from the mass grave. She'd been through quite a few mass graves before, she knew how much of a physical, mental, and emotional toll it takes out of people from being around that much death in such a confined area. Calvert looked to be taking it the hardest from the glazed over look in his eyes as he entered alongside Hotchner, Prentiss, Morgan, and JJ.</p><p>Immediately upon entering the room, Hotchner's jaw was set and his eyes were already meticulously scanning the pair's work on all the boards. She wasn't sure if he were analyzing what they'd done or looking for more of her mistakes he could tear into open wounds. "You guys find anything new?"</p><p>"Aside from a dozen new causes of death and still pinpoint on what his M.O. is-" Beck listed off with a frown. "Nope."</p><p>The team all collectively seemed to deflate from the lack of good news. They looked like they could've used it after the sights they all just had to witness as they all took their seats around the table, their separate notes and new files set around for them to look at an analyze now that there was new data.</p><p>"Hey-" Beck bristled slightly when Dr. Reid abruptly pushed himself from off the edge of the table where they were both leaning- she hadn't realized his weight had been keeping the table grounded until she fell back slightly. "You said Garcia found an online questionnaire the Unsub had his victims fill out on his website?"</p><p>"Yeah," JJ answered as she pulled a sheet from a nearby manila file to slide across the table to him. "We printed it out."</p><p>He thanked her before carefully taking the sheet of paper and hanging it up on the white board nearby. He read it fairly quickly before taking a step back and popping the cap off a blue dry erase marker. "Hm," he hummed to himself as he squinted his eyes, deep in thought.</p><p>"Find anything?" Beck prompted.</p><p>"Yeah- look at this, guys-" he scribbled the word '<em>Phobias</em>' on the board in big blue letters and an arrow pointed at the paper, following the action by circling words on the printed questionnaire. "He calls them 'phobias' instead of 'anxiety disorders'."</p><p>Beck frowned. She was tempted to ask what the significance was in the word usage, but didn't want to sound so clueless. Especially on her first case with this team.</p><p>Thankfully, her unasked question was answered by Agent Prentiss. "Yeah, this guy's either an amateur or he studied psychology in the eighties."</p><p>"His phrasing of the questions are clinical-" Morgan noted, his own copy of the questionnaire in his hands as he stood off to the edge similar to the way Beck was now. She noticed he did that the same way during the profile, walking and standing instead of taking a seat like everyone else. She wondered if it was a trust thing or because he felt the need to be alert at all times. "This guy's a professional," he concluded.</p><p>"Well, he's able to pick the perfect victims," Hotchner remarked without looking up from his own copy. "'Are you close to your family? Easy making friends?' Answer 'yes' and you're spared the torture."</p><p>Calvert shifted in his seat the table beside Hotchner. "We figured out how he chooses his victims, but how does that get us his real name?"</p><p>"We can use all the information we've gather to deduce and run it through a system to find exactly who we're looking for based on the profile we've put together," Beck explained, seemingly flawlessly based on the impressed look on Morgan's face. Spoken like a true profiler, apparently.</p><p>"Alright," Hotchner quickly changed focus. Of course. "Let's review. JJ, can you get Garcia?"</p><p>Morgan took a seat as JJ reached over the table to dial someone from the speaker. "I think the guy's a real psychiatrist," he remarked as he sat down.</p><p>"Also afraid of being alone," Prentiss chimed in. "So, he's most likely married."</p><p>"Could he have children, too, then?" Beck asked.</p><p>"Yes, but they'd be adopted," Dr. Reid replied as he made his way around the table, passing behind where she sat on the edge of the table still as he did.</p><p>"Why?" Calvert asked in confusion.</p><p>"Uh, because the tortures lack a sexual component."</p><p>Calvert nodded in understanding. "Oh, right, he might be impotent."</p><p>"Ruling out the sadism," Beck muttered. She hadn't meant to be too loud about it, but Hotchner had already glanced up at her briefly at the mention of what he'd told her before. Asshole.</p><p><em>"Hey, guys," </em>the soft spoken voice of Penelope Garcia echoed from the speaker in the center of the table.</p><p>"Also, he's desperate for a sense of community, he'd definitely have kids," Reid finished Beck's earlier musing as he took a seat again at the table.</p><p><em>"Okay, I'm crossing Portland doctors with adoptions." </em>Garcia immediately picked up on it all. Ah, she must've been their system.</p><p>Hotchner spoke over the soft pitter patter of keys typing at an alarming rate on the other end of the line. "And given the obsession to control his victims with torture, he might have been abused."</p><p>There was a slight groan of frustration. <em>"Okay, juvenile records are gonna be sealed, so you gotta give me a minute." </em>Beck almost wanted to groan at that. Back at CTU, she had an entire board of computers and group of techs at her beck and call that had unlimited access to everything they could virtually get their little grimey hands on. This was one aspect of the job she'd have to get used to- not having as many resources. Hopefully, this Garcia girl was as good as this team trusted her to be.</p><p>"He uses antiquated terms like 'phobias,' so he's most likely in his forties," Prentiss chimed in.</p><p><em>"And... the Creep of the Moment Award goes to..." </em>Wait- she'd gotten through to the juvenile records? Holy shit, maybe she was that good. <em>"One 43-year-old Dr. Stanley Howard, psychiatrist."</em></p><p>Okay, Beck would admit it. "She's good."</p><p>"This guy was killing his own patients?" Calvert asked, clearly confused at how a doctor could be getting away with something as extreme as killing his own patients without having been caught for so long.</p><p>"No," Beck and Hotchner replied at the same time. Beck immediately backed off after seeing the Unit Chief's irritated look that he sent her. "Stan Howard's smarter than that. That's why he created Goodman and the research ruse."</p><p>"What else do we know about Stan Howard?" Beck prompted the little speaker in the center of the table.</p><p>
  <em>"Married to Jane Howard, has one 8-year-old daughter- Jessica."</em>
</p><p>"Lemme guess- adopted?"</p><p><em>"Yup," </em>came the reply. <em>"He started a center for abused kids." </em>Beck furrowed her eyebrows. Odd. But maybe that's why he wasn't considered a sadist- because he didn't get off on the torture, of course he'd have empathy for people similar to him.</p><p>"Probably because he could relate," Hotchner remarked.</p><p><em>"Oh, one good deed's not fortifying his karma sufficiently," </em>Garcia continued. <em>"Looks like his practice shut down last year."</em></p><p>Beck's head shot up at that. "Last year... wasn't that-"</p><p>"Right around the time the killings started," Hotchner finished her sentence. This time she didn't feel as agitated by it, and neither did he, it seemed.</p><p><em>"He still has a lease on his old office building. City permits were pulled due to renovation, but what do you know? They've been delayed..." </em>Beck could practically hear the smile behind her words. She couldn't help but a crack a small smirk herself listening to the technical analysis. She was better than good with all this info she was pulling, and she just kept going like a magician pulling shit out of a bottomless hat. <em>"Yikes! His bank records show a seriously depleted savings account."</em></p><p>"So he's keeping up appearances," the Unit Chief deduced. "Where's the building?"</p><p>Beck was already pushing off from the edge of the table by the time Garcia had began to list off the address, <em>"427 Cedars Avenue."</em></p><p>"It's not far from here," Calvert noted.</p><p>"Alright- let's go check the building," Hotchner began as the rest of the team followed Beck's lead in rising from their seats. "You two-"</p><p>"Talk to the family. Got it." Prentiss quickly caught onto her cue, JJ close beside her, "Thanks, Garcia."</p><p>
  <em>427 Cedars Avenue.</em>
</p><p>Beck quickly jotted down on her notepad before ripping out the page and pocketing it.</p><p>Thank you, Penelope Garcia</p><p>Hello, Stan Howard.</p><p>
  <em>—</em>
</p><p>Beck had finished up strapping in her FBI bullet proof vest by the time Hotchner had begun pulling the SUV down the street where the office was located. She awkwardly adjusted it against her chest, her fingers idly tracing the big, blotchy letters above her breasts. 'FBI.'</p><p>Her CTU vest had always been a pitch black, never worn outside of her clothes, always hidden beneath a layer or two of clothes. It felt odd and awkward to have it brandished out for the world to see. Too many risks.</p><p>She had to remind herself though that this wasn't Mogadishu, Kuwait, Kabul, Baghdad, DRC, Pyongyang, Aleppo. This was just... Portland, Oregon. The greatest danger to her was a fake doctor killing people by drowning them and burning them alive. They were ten steps ahead of him. And she wasn't going into this alone. She didn't have to check over her shoulder every five steps. She didn't have to hide her bulletproof vest.</p><p>This wasn't the CTU. This was the BAU.</p><p>"You okay?"</p><p>Beck glanced over to her right. Dr. Reid was peering at her, a genuinely concerned look plastered on his face.</p><p>She nodded, for his benefit and for hers- she doubted he'd want to hear about her past excursions and she definitely didn't feel like divulging any details, especially not here or now... or ever. "Fine."</p><p>Just then, Hotchner had pulled the vehicle just in front of where the GPS had taken them- 427 Cedars Avenue only...</p><p>"Are you sure this is it?" Morgan leaned over to Hotchner as he gestured to where office of Dr. Stan Howard was meant to have been.</p><p>Hotchner frowned as he exited the car having put it into park with a jerk, Reid, Morgan, Calvert and Beck following his lead until they were all standing just off the sidewalk at 427 Cedars Avenue... where there was nothing but an empty plot of land.</p><p>"This is 427 Cedars Avenue," Dr. Reid said as they stood clueless in the middle of the lot looking like a bunch of fucking idiots. "Where's the office?"</p><p>"Yeah," Beck muttered as she kicked some dirt up beneath her boot. "Not exactly what I'd imagined it to look like..."</p><p>Agent Calvert looked just as pissed as Beck felt at their discovery. "He wasn't luring victims to an empty lot."</p><p>"He wouldn't be stupid enough to use the building that's attached to his real identity," Beck muttered bitterly. Should've known.</p><p>Hotchner was already dialing up someone on his phone in the midst of their turmoil. "Hey, Prentiss. We're at the office. The building's gone." There was a pause before he swiftly turned on his heel back to the car, everyone else following in his stead. Here they went again...</p><p>As soon as the group of agents had settled back into their seats in the SUV, Hotchner was already hitting the gas. The car jerked forward. Beck, who had opted for the window seat behind Morgan was jostled slightly when Dr. Reid lost his balance and was squished against her. She glanced up when he glanced backwards and noted at how close they were to one another. He quickly jerked back, a fumbled apology leaving his mouth as he corrected himself. She could've sworn she saw a slight blush tinting his cheeks.</p><p>Hm... Seems like Dr. Reid had a phobia of his own. Germophobia.</p><p>"Where are we going?" Agent Calvert shouted over the sirens as Hotchner weaved his way through the busy streets.</p><p>"Prentiss just texted me an address-" Morgan exclaimed. "Mrs. Howard's parents have commercial property downtown. We've got a police unit meeting us there."</p><p>"You think that's where he would be?"</p><p>"It's our best bet," Beck shouted back in reply.</p><p>With Hotchner's almost wreckless driving, the team managed to make it to this downtown commercial property in record time. And right on time with them were the police unit cars, swerving into the building entrance just behind them.</p><p>They parked, Agent Calvert and the armed police squadron rushing in first to secure the main entrance. Hotchner followed in suit, Morgan, Dr. Reid, and Beck trailing him in a V formation as they entered. Beck's fingers twitched, the weight of her weapon holstered at the curve of her back burning into her skin as she walked. But her guard fell ever so slightly when they arrived into the main lobby of the... 'Goodman Institute' building only to find it... empty. Just like the lot, this place was a lie, according to Calvert.</p><p>"There are no tenants in this building. These must be fake names," he stated, jabbing a frustrated finger in the direction of a large black board filled to the brim with fake names.</p><p>"Helps with the ruse," Morgan deduced.</p><p>Goodman Institute 9th on the list... Dr. Barry Goodman PhD, right next to the room number 501.</p><p>"Goodman's on the 5th floor," Morgan listed off the blackboard. Hotchner immediately drew his weapon as they marched forward to room 501, Morgan and Beck doing the same as they trailed behind.</p><p>The stairs were narrow, the hallways were mute, cold, and bright. It didn't actually smell like death, but if this were a real workplace building, she'd imagine quite a few souls would be lost to these white walls and stained carpets. She might not have loved what she did, but she found she vastly preferred getting thrown around by grenades and scaling the sides of skyscrapers than having to ever live a cubicle lifestyle eight hours a day, five days a week. She'd probably hire someone to shoot <em>her</em>.</p><p>When they reached room 501, Hotchner went in first. Morgan second. Beck third. They fell in line with each other with ease. While Hotchner had a direct line in the center of the room, Morgan immediately rushed forward towards the desk at the far end of the room, his guard down about the opposite side of the office that Beck was covering. Complete trust. Morgan wasn't weary of someone watching his back as he focused on one particular part of the room, he trusted his team to keep the rest of the room covered. And they did, because they found that no one was there.</p><p>"It's clear!" Morgan shouted after scaling the entire office space. "Back area's clear!"</p><p>It was dark. Someone turned on the lights and Beck winced as she placed her pistol back into it's holster.</p><p>"Missy Cassell was the last person to sign in," Hotchner explained as he and Dr. Reid had already began to scavenge through Howard's desk and belongings.</p><p>"When was that?" Beck and Reid's voices bounced off the walls as they spoke in unison. They didn't bother to share a knowing glance like the first few times, no time.</p><p>"Hours ago."</p><p>"She has to still be here unless he's taken her to a second location like he had Patrick Walker," Beck stated.</p><p>Hotchner gave her a short nod of acknowledgement. He agreed. Huh, that was the first sign of actual mutual respect and decency he's shown since she first started. Maybe it was because they were in the middle of a crisis at the moment and there was no time for mind games. She figured it would go back to the way it was before by the time they caught Howard, so she tried not to linger on the small gesture and it's connotations.</p><p>"Alright- let's split up," Hotchner began. "Calvert, you and Reid take the West side. Ryder- you're with Morgan and I."</p><p>Calvert gave small nod to Hotchner, "Copy," before he and Reid were quick to file out.</p><p>The second they were out of the room, Morgan took a step forward, his eyes gazing over the unorganized mess of the office. "It definitely looks like he's still here," he noted.</p><p>"He's not gonna go quietly," Hotchner uttered before storming off in the opposite direction he'd sent Calvert and Reid. Beck faltered to follow as she remembered what she'd observed herself back during the profile.</p><p>He wants control. That's all he wants.</p><p>He'd take his own life before giving that up.</p><p>She knew it would be important...</p><p>Hotchner led her and Morgan out through the side. They'd searched the entirety of the West side of the building before going outside. Maybe they'd get a view on where he was from there.</p><p>Then, sure enough, Morgan shouted out. "Stan Howard, FBI! Stay right where you are!"</p><p>Beck's eyes shot up to where he was pointing and shouting at. Up at the top of a few outside staircases was a short, stubly man. It looked as though his hair was arched like the McDonald's 'M', he wore large black glasses, a red tie and a beige suit. He definitely looked the part of doctor. Not a cowardly doctor that would take advantage of people trying to get help with their anxieties and fears only to have them used against them and killed in the way they fear the most.</p><p>Beck's fists clenched.</p><p>He was going up the stairs. He wasn't going to give up his control.</p><p>Up the stairs... Take his own life...</p><p>A shiver went up Beck's spine as the realization set in. She knew where he was headed. And how to stop him.</p><p>She threw caution into the wind, letting the wind whip her messy bangs around as she sprinted in the opposite direction of the West outside staircase.</p><p>"Ryder!"</p><p>Hotchner's angry shouts were ignored as her short legs carried her around the East side of the building where- AHA! East side of the building also had an outside staircase. She didn't waste a second as she jumped up and started her trek up. She skipped every other step in order to try and catch up. From the looks of it, he only had a few more stairs to go before Howard reached the roof, but assuming he'd want a few last words before he killed himself, she figured he'd stay up there long enough for Hotchner to catch up with Morgan... long enough for her to get justice for Jenny Wittman and Patrick Walker.</p><p>By the time she'd reached the roof, she was only slightly out of breath.</p><p>Her hair was whipping around in the wind and she slowly reached around her back to pull her weapon from it's holster. She cautiously took a few steps forward, testing to see if the stubly figure at the opposite corner of the roof would sense her presence and turn towards her. He didn't.</p><p>Stan Howard stood stiff and proud at the edge of the roof, just above the West stair case. Of course, she predicted correctly about this cowardly little shit wanting to get in a few last words. Why'd they always have to try and have the last words?</p><p>"Dr. Howard?" Beck could vaguely hear Hotchner call out to him from somewhere past the edge. They'd finally made it up there. "I'm Aaron Hotchner. I'm with the FBI." He's trying to make a connection to this man, make him feel comfortable to try and talk him down. He won't.</p><p>Sure enough- "Don't ask me to come down," was Stan Howard's emotionless response.</p><p>"We found at least fifteen people dead," Hotchner amended as Beck grew closer and closer. As she approached, she realized she probably couldn't shoot him- it was what he wanted and they still needed to know where Missy Cassell was. "It's over."</p><p>"They sacrificed themselves for science," Howard exclaimed. Huh, so that's why he did it.</p><p>His own twisted experiment to try and fix his own anxiety... She wondered what that was. Sick and twisted bastard with an abusive mom. She imagined it wasn't open spaces, heights, sunlight... He was basking in this setting on the corner of the building. He probably wasn't even scared of death. What made his little tick falter- she wondered as she holstered her gun.</p><p>"You know this is the easy way out," Hotchner stated, Beck's fingers brushed along the edge of her elastic belt. "If you come down, we'd like to talk to you." Slowly and carefully, she made sure not to make a sound as she unbuckled it and slowly slid it from around her waist. "You know you'll never get over your fear by killing yourself or your patients." He was really pulling out all the stops- throwing every punch- but nothing was eliciting a response. Beck figured that with someone as cold and heartless enough not to care about other people's fears, the only one he'd react to was his own- maybe losing control?</p><p>"Most people go into law enforcement because they want to help others," Howard said.</p><p>Morgan shouting back in response, clearly not in the mood, "Tell us where Missy is!"</p><p>What fear invoked fear and the loss of control? What made someone feel utterly helpless? Well, it could be argued all the fears everyone faced of their own made them feel helpless. There had to be something about the way he was so naturally holding his stance up here, why he chose a building with ugly white walls, narrow hallways, and disgustingly bright lights.</p><p>Howard carefully pulled the glasses off his face and tucked them into his breast pocket. "I think your greatest fear is that you can't save everyone."</p><p>Disgustingly bright lights... Basking in the sun...</p><p>Motherfucker was afraid of the dark. Ha! The oldest fucking fear in the book.</p><p>Beck's fingers flexed as she crept just a little bit closer, now only a few feet behind Howard. Her grip tightened on the end of the belt that dangled in her hand as she crouched, ready to strike.</p><p>"It <em>is </em>worse than I thought."</p><p>
  <em>Now!</em>
</p><p>Beck's hand shot out, the belt making a sharp slapping noise as it swung up and around Howard's frail neck, just above his collar.</p><p>He had started to lean forward when he was abruply yanked back when the agent pulled the belt in her direction. He made a choking noise as he fell in the opposite direction of his death at the bottom of the ledge.</p><p>Beck watched as he toppled to the ground just in front of her, the belt wrapped tightly around his throat now going limp as she released her hold on it. He coughed, gasped, and spluttered for air as he squirmed beneath her. He must not have been expecting that, or her for that matter.</p><p>"You- you- <em>NO</em>!" He roared between his coughs.</p><p>Beck rolled her eyes, "Shut up." She leaned over to roll Howard onto his back, her free hand coming up to produce the handcuffs in her back pocket that she used to lock his wrists in place behind his back. He was still shouting and cursing by the time she yanked him back up to his feet. Morgan and Hotchner were quick to make it the rest of the way up the stairs to get to the roof.</p><p>The shorter agent yanked the handcuffs back having set them the tightest they could go locked around Howard's wrists. Her height was in her favor now as she yanked him down to her height so she could hiss in his ear, "Where is she?"</p><p>Howard snarled, "I want my lawyer."</p><p>Beck rolled her eyes, the hand latched onto his forearm just above his cuffed wrists pushing her thumb into his arm while her other fingers pulled his forearm upwards. Howard cried out. "Missy Cassell's location- <em>now</em>." When he whimpered, an idea struck. "Unless, you'd rather we just take you back to station. Sit you down in a nice... cold... <em>dark</em>... cell?" He stiffened in her hold. "Yeah. That sounds good, doesn't it, Agent Hotchner?"</p><p>Hotchner caught on quickly. "I can arrange that," he moved forward to grab Howard by the upper arm, taking him from Beck to lead him out.</p><p>They'd barely made it to the stairs when Howard cracked. "No! No! Please... Please..."</p><p>"Where is she?" Morgan grilled him.</p><p>"The basement... Buried." Was all he uttered, an emotionless mask plastered on his face. That must've been how he got through the deaths. He put on a facade for his science, himself. He didn't get off on it. Not a sadist...</p><p>Beck stole a glance to Hotchner. He glanced down back at her, he must've come to the same conclusion. He was right.</p><p>
  <em>Asshole.</em>
</p><p>"Let's go," Hotchner growled, yanking Howard down the stairs, Morgan and Beck following close behind.</p><p>"Hey, Ryder." Beck glanced up to Morgan as she walked. "Not bad for your first Unsub."</p><p>"Technically, he isn't my first," she paused when she saw Morgan's raised eyebrow. "...but thanks. Let's just find Missy Cassell."</p><p>After Hotchner deposited Howard with the police downstairs, the team was already in hot pursuit of Calvert.</p><p>"Miss Cassell's car is still here-" He'd begun when Beck cut him off.</p><p>"He said she's in the basement," she said in a rush of words. "Calvert, where's the basement?"</p><p>Calvert nodded back to the other end where he'd come from. "This way." He jogged off, Beck and Morgan on his trail. She imagined Hotchner was calling Reid now with a few paramedics for whatever condition they'd find Missy Cassell in. Beck expected the worse, but hoped for the best.</p><p>Calvert led them directly to the basement of the building. It was dark, minimal light- unlike the rest of the office. Stone walls that seemed like they were closing in on the group as they all stormed in. The rooms lit up with the bright white lights of the flashlights each of the agents brought out in their search for Missy.</p><p>"Where would he hide her in here?"</p><p>Beck glanced up when Hotchner's voice was so close beside her. He wasn't looking at her, but the question sure was directed at her.</p><p>"Uh- he, he said something about her being buried," she quickly answered in a rush of breath. "He could've pummeled her with concrete. It is a basement..."</p><p>Hotchner glared at her.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"You were able to pick up his fear of darkness, yet you were too distracted in trying to break his psyche that you didn't pick up on the physical details," he retorted, frustrated with her. "He had dirt beneath his nails, Ryder. What does that tell you?"</p><p>"He buried her with dirt and not concrete?!" She shouted, growing frustrated herself. "What does it matter? It's a small mistake and you're tearing into me for it! Just like the sadist mistake!"</p><p>He turned to fully face her now. "There is a life on the line and I am trying to build your profiling skills-"</p><p>"<em>No</em>." Oh, she had had it. "You're putting me on the spot and asking me questions to which you know I don't have the answers to. You want me to fail so you have something to put in your little report to Strauss. You want to get rid of me because you don't want me here. And it's not just because you don't trust me- it's because you don't want your team to change." Hotchner's eye twitched and she knew she'd hit her mark. "But it's too late, Hotchner- I'm here. And you're either going to let me do my job my way or <em>help me </em>do it your way."</p><p>There was a beat of silence. She glared up at him and he scowled down at her. Nether said a word until there was shout from the other side of the basement.</p><p>"I got something!" Morgan.</p><p>The pair's argument was dropped, both of them jogging over to where Morgan was standing over a pile of dirt and empty... dirt bags. They were close.</p><p>Hotchner dove forward towards the edge of what looked like an empty elevator shaft. Huh, elevators. Back to the start it seemed. That was ironic.</p><p>Beck didn't bother focusing on said irony because suddenly she was arms deep in a bunch of dirt that had piled down the elevator shaft. With Hotchner on her right and Morgan on her left, they dug through the dirt, searching for any sign of Missy Cassell. Buried. That's what Howard had said. He'd buried this poor woman alive and left her for dead.</p><p>Beck dug faster.</p><p>Suddenly, her hand hit something warm... lifelike. She dug in that direction until a pale hand was revealed within the dirt. A watch slapped on the limp wrist that dangled out at them. Missy.</p><p>"Oh my God," Morgan uttered as they began to dig faster around to pull her out.</p><p>"Be careful," Hotchner chastised. "That's her head." Beck saw what he was talking about as a brown head of hair was revealed beneath more dirt. Their hands began to snake around her form, trying to dig around her to get the dirt to soften. When they'd done that, Beck and Morgan both reached for her arm. "Be careful," Hotchner repeated his previous sentiment.</p><p>"Ready?" Morgan asked her as he planted his legs beside hers. She nodded just before they started to yank.</p><p>"Not too hard, not too hard- she might be stuck," Hotchner exclaimed as he leaned in to help grab her by her shoulders and helped the two agents pull Missy Cassell the rest of the way out until she was lying down on the ground before them.</p><p>Beck leaned over the unconscious and dirty woman lyng before her.</p><p>"Tell them to call the paramedics," she heard Hotchner call from over her shoulder. Calvert rushed off.</p><p>Beck lightly brushed her hair from her face, her fingers sitting at her nose. There was a soft air flow. "Missy? Missy!" She shouted, her other hand coming up to her wrist that laid beside her head. There was a faint flutter. "Weak heartbeat. She's breathing."</p><p>Suddenly, Missy Cassell jolted beneath their hands. Coughing and yelping and whimpering. Her eyes were still closed, the light was probably blinding her and there was still a lot of dirt all around her face- eyes included. Her body was convulsing from shock, Beck took her hand firmly in hers to try and calm her and hold her still, they didn't want her to injure herself further.</p><p>"Clear her area," Hotchner directed as he tried to hold her neck still as she trashed side to side. "It's okay. It's alright. We're here to help. It's okay. It's okay. You're going to be alright. We're here to help you." Beck tightened her grip on her hand, still holding it down beside her head as Hotchner secured the other one. Missy squeezed back slightly as her sporadic movements came to a close. Now all she was doing was shaking beneath her touch purely out of shock.</p><p>Beck brought her other hand forward to lightly brush the dirt from Missy Cassell's eyelids so she could barely open her eyes. Bright blue eyes brimmed with tears as they stared up at her. "You're gonna be fine. He's gone now." A small sob wracked Missy's body, her grip tightening on Beck's hand.</p><p>The thought of what she'd just gone through- having almost been killed in the way she feared most. And Beck knew it had to have taken Howard a while to completely bury Missy alive from head to toe. She'd spent an excruciatingly long time being buried. The pain within Missy's eyes was unbearable to look at after so long, Beck had to look away and she found solace in Dr. Reid who was also looking up from Missy's dirt-covered face to give his fellow team member a soft smile.</p><p>
  <em>'We did it.'</em>
</p><p>And they had. It was over.</p><p>—</p><p>Before they'd left Portland, Beck had gotten the privilege of watching Stan Howard writhe inside of a dark detainment cell as the team packed up all of their things from the field office. Calvert and his team thanked them and walked them to their SUV's, he was beyond grateful and offered them a drink at a nearby bar to his treat. But, unsurprisingly, no one took him up on it.</p><p>Beck had taken a melatonin pill for the flight back. There wasn't any new case or briefing, so she felt the need to be conscious for the jet ride back to DC was unnecessary and slept the entire time. And from the way everyone had fallen into their seats haphazardly before they had even taken off, she'd imagined she wasn't the only one.</p><p>When they'd landed, Beck had thrown a small 'meet you back at the office' to the team from over her shoulder as they walked one way and she walked the other towards her baby.</p><p>The bike was right where she'd left it in the BAU jet hangar. Untouched, no scratches, not even a smudge. She was only gone for a few days, but Beck still worried.</p><p>She'd beat the team to the office by a good fifteen minutes, just like she had on the way to the hangar. But unlike a few days ago, she hadn't bothered to wait those few minutes outside in the brisk air. She had a report to write up.</p><p>The brunette was sitting on the edge of the walkway leading down to the Bull Pen. She hadn't really been assigned a desk yet, but her notepad and laptop were good enough. She'd finished up the first report about Stan Howard- documenting the profile word for word, their findings, how they came to the conclusion, the victims killed, how they were killed, where they were found. Jenny Wittman, Patrick Walker, Missy Cassell. How they caught Stan Howard- what she did to stop him from taking his life and getting him to confess where Missy was that led to his arrest and her rescue.</p><p>But once she'd finished the initial report, she started on her own report.</p><p>
  <em>Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>In my first case with the BAU, I was immediately off put by Agent Hotchner's blunt efforts to try to repel and scare me away from his team. He's clearly very protective of his normality and having just been brought in following Agent Jason Gideon's abrupt leave from the team, he's attempting to chase me away in an attempt to maintain normality within his own unit. He's petty, like a child in some cases. There were multiple instances where he inappropriately put me on the spot in an attempt to see me fail, if I hadn't been able to catch myself- he would have jeopardized the entire case.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Entry date- 10/18/07</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Agent Rebecca Ryder.</em>
</p><p>She shut her laptop just as the team was getting in.</p><p>Prentiss, Dr. Reid, and Morgan all took their collective seats at their desks around the main walkway in the middle of the office, JJ and Hotchner walking down with their bags in hand still.</p><p>"Here," Beck met Hotchner just outside his office door, holding up the manila file she'd finished putting together earlier. "My case report. Finished it while I was waiting," she explained to him. She noticed the small quirk of his eyebrow. Impressed. Hm, that's a first.</p><p>He took it from her with his free hand. "Thank you. I'll file it away when I finish my own." Beck nearly blanched. Was that... humor? "I'll also talk to Strauss about how you did today."</p><p>Beck tilted her head up at him, perplexed. "How <em>did</em> I do today?"</p><p>Hotchner let out a heavy sigh, his eyes trailing down to the file in his hands before glancing back up to her. "In all three cases I've worked alongside you so far, you've managed to exceed my expectations of you every time. There would have been four more casualties had you not taken the profile into account and been ten steps ahead of the Unsubs every time. I'd be lying if I told you that that wasn't an impressive feat."</p><p>Beck blinked once. Twice. She opened her mouth to say something, nothing came out so she closed it. Then she opened it again, only all she could manage was, "Uh... thank you. I guess." He looked amused at her reaction, but still didn't smile. "See you... whenever..." With a small nod, the agent turned on her heel to start off down the stairs.</p><p>She'd made it about three steps when she heard Hotchner call from behind her, "Agent Ryder." She halted in her tracks and turned back to face him, scared for what he would say next. She wasn't sure if she could take any more compliments after what she'd just written in her log to Strauss about him. "I wanted to apologize for putting you into uncomfortable positions this case."</p><p>An apology. Even worse.</p><p>"You were right, I don't want this team to change as much as it has been recently," he continued. "But I'd like to to take you on as a new change here. If you're willing to, you're welcome to officially join the team."</p><p>Beck couldn't help the small smirk that graced her lips. It wasn't mocking or shit-eating. Purely proud of herself. "Are you saying I profiled you well?"</p><p>He pursed his lips together as if to say '<em>of course,</em> that's <em>what you catch onto</em>.' "You are good at what you do," he admitted. "But, you forget that before you had the chance to profile me, it was my job to profile you when we first met." How could she forget that? That was the day her life kind of exploded in her face.</p><p>"Agent Ryder..." She stared up at him, noticing how the humor was gone from his voice just like before. "I'm not Bruno Hawks."</p><p>Beck let out a heavy sigh. "You're pretty good at what you do, too, Agent Hotchner," she muttered almost bitterly. She couldn't even be mad at him. He was spot on and she hadn't even realized it until he'd said anything.</p><p>"I agreed to take you on as a member of the BAU. I wasn't forced," he told her matter of factly. "I had over a hundred and fifty-two reasons not to allow you into this office, into this team-" Beck's eyes widened. A hundred and fifty-two... how had he-? "-But I willingly allowed you to be here."</p><p>A hundred and fifty-two... He knew all of that, yet he still...</p><p>"...Why?"</p><p>"Because Gideon saw something in you," he answered truthfully. "He did during the Hassan Nadir case, when he was on the run and dropped your information to Strauss, when he hand delivered a stellar recommendation for you just before he left... He saw something in you that was worth having here. I think I know what that was."</p><p>Beck scoffed. "Misguided violence, narcissistic tendencies, and severe trust issues?"</p><p>"Determination," he corrected her. "You just need a goal to reach."</p><p>"And what goal might that be?"</p><p>"Helping catch people like Bruno Hawks."</p><p>He was good...</p><p>
  <em>Asshole.</em>
</p><p>He smirked slightly before turning to go into his office.</p><p>"Hotchner," she called to him, despite herself. He paused at his door and turned to her expectantly. "...thanks."</p><p>This time, he did smile at her. It was by no means a joyful, beaming grin, but it was smile nonetheless. "I expect to see that desk filled tomorrow." His eyes trailed to the empty desk across from where Agent Morgan sat with his head bowed over his own report. Hm, her own desk...</p><p>"Yes, sir," Beck replied, sparing him a polite little smile of her own before she started her way to the exit. Her heeled boots made little noise as she walked past the rest of the agents on her way out, she hadn't bothered to make an effort to say goodbye because she didn't want to risk them having to see the complete terror in her eyes.</p><p>When she eventually made it to the elevator, it settled in. Her eyes glazed over as she stared at the FBI insignia on the glass doors going into the BAU office just before the elevator doors closed in. When she was completely alone with her trouble thoughts, she let out a frustrated scream within the confined four walls of the elevator.</p><p>"<em>FUCK</em>!"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Belonging</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <strong>
      <span>Belonging</span>
    </strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>•••</p>
<p>
  <em>"Some of us aren't meant to belong. Some of us have to turn the world upside down and shake the hell out of it until we make our own place in it." </em>
  <em>– </em>
  <em>Elizabeth Lowell, Remember Summer.</em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>Spencer sat adjacent to the desk, his eyes analyzing every inch, every item. His foot tapped the ground repeatedly, his finger doing the same against his lips. His forehead was creased as he furrowed his eyebrows, staring...</p>
<p>Who was Rebecca Ryder?</p>
<p>He was trying to piece together the puzzle of Beck- had been since he first met her- but this time, he was attempting to do so by analyzing her desk and what was on it. You could tell quite a lot about someone based on the way they decorated their workspace. Garcia, for example, had a plethora of plushies, toys, bobble-heads, and figurines all lining every open free space around her various computer screens. Morgan had his desk neatly organized on the surface- files by dates then names- but, even he had a few photos of his passed father, his mom, his sisters, even a small Chicago Blackhawks bobble head Garcia had gifted him a year ago for his birthday. Emily's desk was a mess, save for a single photo of the Eiffel tower. And his desk was neatly organized- the only thing setting him apart from anyone else was the wall that separated his and Emily's desks was filled to the brim with sticky notes of small notes made, random facts, reminders, and various different maps.</p>
<p>Then there was Beck's desk.</p>
<p>It was... clear of any and all files. She must've kept them in the cabinets, then again she also hadn't been on many cases yet, she probably didn't have any.</p>
<p>On the far end of the desk, faced away so that only she could see it beside her computer, was a framed family photo- her adopted parents, older brother, younger sister, and baby brother all depicted with her smushed in the middle. The odd ball out- the only Asian in a family of Caucasian Americans- was a younger looking Beck, yet she seemed to fit in perfectly with them.</p>
<p>At the other end of her desk, the very edge for everyone to see- not hidden away like the picture frame- was a small Bonsai tree. Which was odd, Spencer hadn't taken Beck as someone who was in touch with Zen Buddhism, but he figured maybe she had it up on display to try and show everyone else that maybe she was trying to work on her patience, calmness of mind, and harmony. She was kind of jaded and angry all the time, despite cracking jokes every so often.</p>
<p>And finally, the last thing on her desk was her large plaque. '<em>REBECCA RYDER.' </em>It was sitting just behind her Bonsai... Clearly she wasn't trying to show off what her name was as though she were a proud person. But Spencer wondered what she had to prove with the Bonsai...</p>
<p>Then he had to remember he was profiling a woman who used to work with a cut throat team in the CIA. Just recalling the way everyone there was so on edge with one another, their dynamic unlike anything the BAU had... It was competitive, hardcore, clearly none of them liked one another. With a work environment like that, it was no wonder Beck was cautious with the way she displayed herself here in a workspace full of profilers... she was scared to have a repeat of Bruno Hawks, Olivia Hopkins, and John Summers.</p>
<p>The frame was clearly put there to suffice some kind of notion that she was human, meant to prove that she wasn't heartless. That she was just like them. That she was normal. But she'd placed it where only she could see it because she was cautious with showing something as vulnerable as her family. She still had the CTU mindset that it could've been used against her.</p>
<p>The Bonsai was there because... well, maybe she just wanted a pop. A little quirk like the rest of them. It sure did stand out on her barren plot of wood.</p>
<p>And finally, the name plaque. Spencer had his just beside his keyboard. Not hidden, but not on display. It was nothing to be ashamed of, but he at least wanted people to know whose desk it was. Beck just seemed ashamed of her name. Maybe it was because she just hated the fact it didn't just say 'Beck.' He was still stuck on why she had such an aversion to her own full name.</p>
<p>"Hey, kid." Spencer was pulled from his train of thought when Morgan approached, hot coffee mug in hand. "Whatcha up to? I could practically smell the smoke from you over-working the gears in your head from all the way by the coffee pot," he grinned down at the doctor.</p>
<p>Spencer frowned, his foot kicking out to spin himself back around to his own desk. "Nothing that's leading anywhere," he answered vaguely.</p>
<p>Morgan probably already knew what he was looking at. He imagined he'd already tried to get a gauge on Beck's personality from her desk before he'd even arrived that morning. "Bonsai..." Spencer heard him mutter beneath his breath. When he peered over his shoulder, he noticed Morgan ripped a small leaf off. Poor Beck. She sat her Bonsai directly in the path of nosey and destructive Derek Morgan. If Spencer was a betting man, he'd put down good money that that little tree would be there a whole month before it withered away completely.</p>
<p>"Ten bucks says that thing doesn't last to Christmas." Spencer glanced to his left to find Emily had arrived. She smiled between the tree and Spencer, a knowing grin on her face. She was in a good mood this morning.</p>
<p>Spencer couldn't help but smirk. "Twenty that it doesn't last to the end of the month," he cheekily replied.</p>
<p>Emily raised an eyebrow. "You have that little faith in Ryder's ability to keep the plant alive?"</p>
<p>Spencer laughed. "No, I just know keeping a plant within close proximity to Morgan usually results in an untimely death for the plant."</p>
<p>Emily winced. Spencer could see the gears turning in <em>her </em>head now, clearly rethinking her decision of going in on that bet with him. Now they just had to wait and see.</p>
<p>"Speaking of Ryder-" Emily suddenly snapped out of her second thoughts. "-where is she?"</p>
<p>Spencer shrugged. "She's at least fifteen to twenty minutes late almost every day. So, she should be pulling up..." He checked his watch. 8:05. "Right about now."</p>
<p>
  <em>—</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Slow ride! Take it easy!"</em>
</p>
<p>Beck bobbed her head as she pulled her Suzuki into the closest motorcycle parking spot, just a few spots away from the parking lot entrance. She kicked down the stand and then threw her leg over the side, Foghat still blasting in her earphones beneath her helmet. The helmet squeezing her head came off with a tug, she lugged it to her side, letting it dangle off two fingers as she walked towards the Quantico entrance.</p>
<p>The brunette agent walked in, her free hand coming up to yank out her second earphone. Security was stopping everyone, just like at the GBC. Only this time, she didn't have her badge to hand to the gangly security guards this time. So, she had to strut towards the end of all the security towards a small desk off to the side.</p>
<p>"Hi," she casually greeted the man behind the counter. "Agent Rebecca Ryder. I'm supposed to be getting my credentials this week, per Chief Strauss of the BAU."</p>
<p>The security guard nodded, his head turning to the side as he looked up at the computer screen in front of him. Beck watched as he hit a few keys and clicked a few buttons with his mouse. Eventually, he looked back to her. "Right- I got the confirmation right here. Let me go to the back to get those credentials for you, Agent Ryder."</p>
<p>Beck simply raised both eyebrows, watching him go as he left to the back to get her badge. When he returned and handed it to her, she flipped open the bulky black case to see her new official FBI credentials.</p>
<p>There they were... those glazed over black eyes staring at her that were her own. They had opted to keep the old photo from the CIA badge. The same steel, emotionless look she'd had for almost every photo taken after joining the CTU. Not revealing anything, not happy to be there... Just there to get shit done.</p>
<p>This was different.</p>
<p>It was different when Beck took those credentials and put them down in a tray along with her keys, phone, earphones, go-bag, helmet, gun, and knives. She stepped through the metal detector without a hitch and picked up her things on the other end. She'd just holstered her gun behind her back before she watched the security guard that had been looking through her things pick up her credentials.</p>
<p>"Agent Rebecca Ryder of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, huh?" He asked with a quirked up eyebrow. Hm, some things never changed.</p>
<p>"Yup," she replied as she held her hand out to take the badge back from him. "That's me." She grinned as she pocketed the last of her things and pushed her earphone back into place in her ear.</p>
<p>"Catch a lot of serial killers?" He asked.</p>
<p>She smirked. "Sure hope so," she winked at him before hooking her fingers into her helmet and strutting away. On her way to the elevator, she paused briefly at the vending machine. "Hm..." she hummed to herself as her fingers tapped her lips, her eyes scanning the rows of snacks and drinks inside. Aha! 4B and 8J. She punched in the digits then slipped in a five into the slot. She grew giddy as she watched the Snapple and the gummy bears fall down into the bottom compartment where she reached in to fish them out.</p>
<p>She could've skipped the rest of the way up to the BAU office with her snacks now being held inside her helmet. When the elevator closed, she smiled at the silver doors.</p>
<p>Some things never changed.</p>
<p>They did, however, get complicated.</p>
<p>
  <em>"I wanted to apologize for putting you into uncomfortable positions this case."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I had over a hundred and fifty-two reasons not to allow you into this office, into this team."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I'm not Bruno Hawks."</em>
</p>
<p>Beck clenched her jaw. Hotchner made her job to try and dethrone him as the Unit Chief of the BAU just a little more difficult and a lot more complicated with the apology he had given her the week before following the case with Stan Howard. He'd also revealed a few other things. Number one being that he wasn't a complete douchebag, which complicated things in the sense that she might feel guilt when getting him fired. Number two being that he saw right through her and could very well know her little side job, so she had to be extra careful to control her behavior around him as well as the rest of the team. And finally... number three: a hundred and fifty-two.</p>
<p>A hundred and fifty-two.</p>
<p>Beck swallowed down hard at the realization that set in that he had seen her extensive background files. The same files she'd manually sealed from the government records. The same files she put into a box, buried the box, and threw away the key to. The same files that held every report to everything she did with the CTU. The same files that held every wicked detail, every gory recounting, every life she took in her six years in the CIA.</p>
<p>A hundred and fifty-two.</p>
<p>How had Hotchner gotten those files? She sealed them and if that badass Technical Analyst, Penelope Garcia, couldn't crack into them- how had he been able to get his hands on them? Maybe he'd already seen those files back when she was considered a mole within the CIA. Maybe Strauss had made copies before she had time to seal them. Either could've been an option, but... still. It made her blood go cold thinking about how the BAU team members would look at her if they knew what she'd done, read those reports she'd written herself of all the things she'd ever done, ever witnessed.</p>
<p>She could hardly blame Hotchner now for the way he looked at her every time she spoke now that she knew what he had read about her in those files.</p>
<p>And if that wasn't enough on her plate, she had Strauss on her ass.</p>
<p>Beck's phone rang just as she hit the seventh floor.</p>
<p>The agent glanced down at the cell in her hand.</p>
<p>
  <em>Incoming Call: The Wicked Witch of the West</em>
</p>
<p>Beck rolled her eyes, snapping the phone shut and pocketing it once more. She didn't have the time or effort to deal with her right now, today, tomorrow, the day after, ever. But, she figured Strauss could wait another week for her reports. She'd already told her how the last case went because she electronically sent her the report, what more did she want from her?</p>
<p>Eventually, Beck had managed to make it to the office. It was already busy and bustling. No one paid her much mind as she sauntered in towards her desk near the center of the room. One thing that was different about the BAU office that set it apart from the CTU was just how open it was- even the barriers that separated each desk were low enough to see the other occupants of the desks around it. She hated that what used to be her escape at the CTU- her old desks with high walls and little to no contact with other desk occupants- was now so wide and open. She had been kind of forced to put an effort into decorations.</p>
<p>She'd never really bothered to decorate her old desk at the CTU. She'd hardly ever spend time there. But, she noticed how the other agents of the BAU had somewhat decorated theirs, made it their own. So, she did what Olivia Hopkins had done to her desk. A small picture frame of her family and a small Bonsai tree. Olivia had managed hers well, Beck always liked to admire it whenever she'd passed her desk... but now that she had one of her own, she realized now as she took a seat at her desk that it looked kind of stupid and out of place and- <em>who tore a leaf off already?</em></p>
<p>Beck frowned as she dropped her go-bag to the ground and her helmet with snacks inside just beside her keyboard.</p>
<p>She dropped herself into her bouncing rolling chair, kicking her leg to spin slightly as she moved to set her bag beneath her desk and out of the way. But as it brushed the large bottom cabinet on the side of the desk, it came ajar and opened. Beck tried to push it back in, but something wouldn't click and it just slid right back out. The agent frowned and tried harder to push it back in this time, still to no avail. "Whatever," she muttered, leaving it be for now. She'd figure out what to do about that later.</p>
<p>For the time being, she'd just stick to her breakfast.</p>
<p>Beck tore open the small bag of gummy bears and popped the cap open on the Snapple bottle. As she took a sip, she flipped the plastic cap in her hand and read the bottom. "Hm," she hummed, just loud enough for Dr. Reid to hear from where he sat across the walkway from her. "Slugs have four noses... huh."</p>
<p>Dr. Reid spun around in his chair to face her. His eyebrows were furrowed, forehead creased as he asked, "They <em>do</em>?"</p>
<p>"According to the fact of the day on the cap," Beck replied, holding up the Snapple cap in her hand as she brought the bottle up to her lips for another sip. She smiled after having swallowed, "I thought you knew everything, Dr. Reid."</p>
<p>He blushed slightly, "Well... not exactly."</p>
<p>Beck chuckled. "Hm, Snapple outwits the Good Doctor. Color me impressed. Snapple- one, Doctor Spencer Reid- zero." She took another swig as she spun her chair back to face her computer.</p>
<p>As she turned, she spotted Prentiss approaching, steaming mug of coffee in her hand as she stopped between the pair's desks in the walkway. "Coffee?" She offered, holding up her mug.</p>
<p>Beck winced and shook her head. "I don't drink coffee. Too bitter," she explained, holding up her Snapple. "I'm good. Thanks, though."</p>
<p>Prentiss raised an eyebrow at her peculiar choice in drink before taking a seat at her own desk. "So, you drink fruit punch and eat gummy bears for breakfast?" She asked, no malice in her voice, just perplexion and mild humor.</p>
<p>Beck shrugged after popping a gummy bear into her mouth. "Whoever dictated the fact that I can't eat candy and drink fruit punch before eleven AM is clearly a bore," she remarked.</p>
<p>She'd been in the middle of taking another swig of her drink when Penelope Garcia approached. She beamed at her, having just heard her proclamation. "I think I like you," she told her simply. Beck couldn't help but return the smile with one of her own.</p>
<p>Just then, the little bubble of bliss was abruptly popped when JJ came barreling through the rows of desks, a stack of manila folders in her hand. The files were a telltale sign according to the rest of the agents around Beck that visibly deflated at the realization...</p>
<p>"New case?" Reid asked as she passed between their desks.</p>
<p>"Yup," JJ answered briskly as she passed, stopping just before she got to the stairs up to the Bull Pen. "Denver."</p>
<p>As she walked away, Beck turned back around to face the other team members. "That's our cue," she sighed, twisting the cap back onto her Snapple and setting it back onto her desk beside her helmet and now discarded bag of gummy bears.</p>
<p>She had just fallen into step with Reid while walking to the Bull Pin when she halted in her tracks. Dr. Reid glanced at her from over her shoulder, watching with amusement as she jogged back to her desk and snatched up the gummy bears from her desk. She had them in her hand when she managed to catch up to the group and waltzed into the conference room.</p>
<p>Everyone had already taken their seats, save for a spot saved between Prentiss and Dr. Reid that she fell into with a thud. As soon as she tossed her bag of snacks onto the table, JJ had already slid her a paper file identical to the ones set in front of the rest of the team.</p>
<p>"What are we working with?" Morgan prompted as he flipped open his own file.</p>
<p>Beck had just popped a gummy bear into her mouth when JJ turned to the screen behind her and projected the gruesome image of a male and female lying in pools of their own blood against a crimson-stained couch, chunks of their heads missing and smeared bodily fluids scattered across the room depicted in the picture.</p>
<p>The gummy bear fell from Beck's mouth that hung ajar at the sight. She'd seen worse, but her appetite was now long gone.</p>
<p>"The Halbert family," JJ continued as the images came more into view, depicting who Beck assumed to be the parents of said family. Tied up with white rope used to tie the hands of the father, his hands in his lap. The mother beside him, her hands bound behind her back and a gag made of white fabric stuffed in her mouth. Clearly, someone had unresolved mommy issues.</p>
<p>"They were murdered in their home last night in the Denver suburb of Cherry Creek," the blonde explained. "It's the third home invasion like this in the last month."</p>
<p>"Those are the parents," Beck gestured to the two limp adults on the couch. "You said family..."</p>
<p>Her unspoken question was answered when JJ frowned and pressed the button the remote over her shoulder, her eyes not glancing up on the screen that now projected two young boys lying limp on their collective beds... heads down, pressed against the sheets. Not bound, not bruised or sprawled out carelessly. They could've been sleeping had they not looked so stiff. Two very different M.O.'s from the parents, seeing from the lack of blood. There wasn't even a drop where the children were concerned.</p>
<p>"They kill everyone," Hotchner, who was seated at the table across from her, stated.</p>
<p>JJ nodded. "Parents, kids, pets if they have them," she listed off as images of the parents continued to project on the screen more. "Always families, nice neighborhoods."</p>
<p>Morgan, who had been staring at his file intently, finally spoke up. "What did they take?" He'd clearly caught onto the hint about the neighborhoods.</p>
<p>"Nothing they can't fit in their pockets- cash, jewelry."</p>
<p>Hotchner's eyes were boring into the file in front of him when he spoke, "Hundreds of ways to get cash and jewels without killing entire families." When he glanced up, so had Beck. Their eyes met and for a moment the number one hundred fifty-two was all that popped into her head and she quickly averted her gaze to the file in front of her.</p>
<p>"That's why home invasions are so hard to profile," Morgan continued on what the Unit Chief had stated. "Multiple motives."</p>
<p>"National statistics show an uptick in home invasions over the last few years," Dr. Reid remarked as he sat straighter in his seat beside her. "18 percent in Colorado."</p>
<p>Beck's eyes had trailed to around the sixth page of the file JJ had given her when she noticed the autopsy report hadn't been provided... It must not have been completed yet. She'd have to look into that herself, perhaps prove her theory about the overkill on the mother.</p>
<p>"You know it's bad if they're inviting us back," Hotchner's words brought her back to the discussion at the table around her.</p>
<p>"'Back?'" JJ repeated. Beck glanced up at Hotchner's statement, just as curious as JJ to hear his explanation on what he was referring to.</p>
<p>"Well, things went bad after the JonBenet Ramsey case when a couple of agents publicly criticized local detectives," he explained.</p>
<p>Beck scoffed beneath her breath at the reminder of the cold case when Morgan chimed in, "Well, they didn't need us to make them look bad." No they did not. From what Beck could recall from her nights during her years just before the CIA, she'd stay up late sometimes listening to the cold case file shows that always played on the TV stations after certain hours. The JonBenet Ramsey case had always caught her attention, especially the conspiracy theories surrounding it. There were so many open ends, all thanks to how lightly and carelessly the case was handled.</p>
<p>"And that was in Boulder," JJ pieced together.</p>
<p>"Yeah, but the statewide media ran with it, and it took on a life of it's own," Hotchner replied.</p>
<p>Beck flipped through yet another page in her file. "I still maintain that the parents were involved," she mused, not glanced up from the gruesome images of the dead Halbert children. Their parents definitely weren't involved, seeing as they were both dead in the other room. This wasn't about the kids... unless maybe it was... There seemed to be two very different M.O.'s which made things a bit harder to read- just as Morgan had said. Multiple motives.</p>
<p>"Well, I talked to a Lieutenant Nellis," JJ continued. "Trust me- they want our help."</p>
<p>"They need it," Prentiss remarked as she dug through the file, similarly to the way Beck was beside her. "The first two invasions were 20 days apart. This last one was just nine days later," she pointed out.</p>
<p>"So they're killing in faster cycles," Morgan deduced. "Acquiring a taste." A taste for blood.</p>
<p>"And getting better at it every time," Hotchner added.</p>
<p>"And more vicious," Beck noted, speaking without thinking as her eyes were still trained on the photos of the parents. "I know we've already deduced that these victims are chosen at random due to their blatant differences and lack of any connection whatsoever, but it's as though the Unsub has some kind of grudge against the parents. More specifically the mother."</p>
<p>Dr. Reid furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head as he asked, "What makes you say that?"</p>
<p>"Well, for one, she's tied <em>and </em>gagged," she remarked, gesturing to the images in front of her. "You're all profilers, you can read that sign clear as day. But there's more overkill on the mothers than the fathers. Mrs. Halbert is more bruised, bloodier, there's more marks on her. And the ME report hasn't been completed yet, but I'd bet good money that her death was probably caused by the large gaping wound on the upper left portion of her skull- and judging by the size, shape, and indention of the wound, it was caused by an iron golf club straight to the face. While Mr. Halbert's death was caused by a similar blow, only with less force shown in the lack of blood burst from the wound. He didn't hit the father as hard as he did the mother and from the amount of blood, it's clear that the Unsub wanted her to suffer more." When she glanced up from the photo, she saw the collective looks of both amazement and surprise.</p>
<p>Suddenly, she was reminded of CTU and how everyone there hardly took anything she said seriously, especially in her first years there. It was something she'd forgotten about briefly and wondered if this would be similar here at the BAU.</p>
<p>Then, Hotchner surprised her- yet again- when he cleared his throat and spoke up. "Why don't you take the lead on the forensic evidence? See what you find." Wow, this was definitely a 180 on what she had been so used to their first case together.</p>
<p>"Um... sure."</p>
<p>"Good. Wheel's up in thirty."</p>
<p>And with that, the team started to gather their belongings and files and head out the door of the Bull Pin to get ready to head to the jet- oh, God, the jet. Beck had nearly forgotten about that little perk of the job... Great, more flying.</p>
<p>She rolled her eyes as she popped another gummy bear into her mouth. She didn't really have an appetite after looking at so much blood, but she chewed viciously as she clenched her jaw and glared down at the file in front of her.</p>
<p>This job just got a little more difficult, and not just because she was being given newfound responsibility within the collective team, but because suddenly, being an enemy to Hotchner and an ally to Strauss was getting harder and harder every day.</p>
<p><em>Tap. Tap. Tap-hold. Tap. </em>Pause. <em>Tap. Tap. Tap-hold. </em>Pause. <em>Tap-hold. Tap. Tap-hold. Tap. </em>Pause. <em>Tap-hold. Tap. Tap-hold.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>—</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Ryder?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Nineteen year old Rebecca Ryder glanced up from where her eyes had been glued to the metal floor beneath her. Across the aisle of the enormous plane cabin was Olivia Hopkins.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>She was clad in her all-black military armor, Beck was matching. They were on their way to what would be Beck's tenth away mission- she'd done mostly surveillance and intel gathering her first few months with the CTU and had now proven herself able to go on one of these trips. Beck was ecstatic, she'd been training for this her whole life... Her only issue was with the fact that all the away missions required her to fly there.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Beck thought she had her microexpressions controlled when the large plane shook or tilted to one side a bit too much, but apparently she hadn't, seeing as Olivia had caught onto her behavior.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The woman furrowed her eyebrows at the young girl. "You alright?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The teen gripped the straps keeping her secured to her seat and nodded. "'M fine."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"You sure?" Olivia pressed. The plane shook once more and Beck clenched her jaw and threw her head back against the seat, willing herself to keep it together and not to think about that stupid little plane and that stupid field and the fire and the metal and the sweat and the tears- "You look a little white."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I haven't been out a lot lately," Beck quipped through her teeth. "No sunlight kind of makes me lose my color."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"You're being a smart ass again." The way Olivia said it almost sounded as though she were scolding her like a child. Beck didn't think she liked Olivia pretending to take the place of a mother. She might've been the youngest person in the entirety of the Agency, but she didn't need to be mothered.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Beck rolled her eyes. "Then take the hint and leave me the hell alone."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Olivia's face fell slightly. Beck imagined that if she weren't so used to hearing such wicked and vile things from her ex-husband back in the states that she would've almost been hurt by the teenager's words. But she wasn't. She took the hint and went back to staring aimlessly at the metal walls inside the plane.</em>
</p>
<p>Beck hissed between her teeth as the jet shook once more, only instead of being a large military plane, she was back in the small BAU jet. When she opened her eyes and looked across the way from her, she wasn't met by the sullen image of Olivia Hopkins this time, but an apprehensive Emily Prentiss.</p>
<p>Everyone in the jet didn't seem to even notice the jumps and jolts in the plane as they continued to flip through the files JJ had distributed them back at the Bullpen. The thought of the Bullpen made Beck's stomach grumble after she was reminded of the discarded breakfast she'd left back at Quantico. She really should've just eaten what she could've while she had the chance, but her appetite still hadn't really come back since she'd taken closer looks at the Halbert's bloody images.</p>
<p>The plane jolted once more and Beck's hand shot out to grab the bottom of the leather chair she was seated in.</p>
<p>God, if someone didn't say something about this case to take her mind off of crashing, she was going to scream-</p>
<p>"Home invasions typically involve the elderly and single females." Beck wanted to hug Dr. Reid where he sat beside her to her left when his voice broke the tense silence. "The fact that entire families are being targeted suggests multiple Unsubs."</p>
<p>"Could mean gang related," Morgan chimed in from where he was perched on the armrest of the couch across the aisle. "Revenge motive, personal business."</p>
<p>"It could explain the clear rage and deep hatred portrayed in the killing of the parents, but I highly doubt Mrs. Potluck and her husband Mr. Home-By-Seven-Thirty are related to any kind of gang or criminal organization," Beck remarked, a small smirk playing at her lips as she added, "Unless they're adding something extra into the casserole on the down-low, it's highly unlikely this has anything to do with gang circles."</p>
<p>"Sewing circles, more like it," Prentiss chimed in from across from where she sat beside Hotchner. "Like Ryder said- PTA Moms, Gray Flannel Dads- these guys are killing the Cleavers."</p>
<p>"Strange," Dr. Reid mused from beside Beck.</p>
<p>"The pattern?" Hotchner asked, not looking up from his files.</p>
<p>"No, the Cleavers." Beck chuckled at his answer. "Of all the names for a 1950's idyllic TV family, I mean, it's rife with violent implication. Kind of makes you wonder how the writers really felt about suburbia, huh?"</p>
<p>"Probably the same way the Unsubs feel about it," Beck remarked... her fingers lightly trailing along the photo of the Halbert's house. Casual, normal, picture perfect, white picket fence, green grass, flower garden, open porch. "Like the most appealing prison."</p>
<p>There was an ominous implication around her words that sat in tense silence amongst the team.</p>
<p>Hotchner was quick to nip it in the bud. "Focus, please," he reprimanded. Beck glanced up at him from over her file and could see the look on his face as he gazed up at her. She felt as though she were being scolded, like a child.</p>
<p>She didn't lash out this time. Instead, she took his words and put her attention back to the case.</p>
<p>"Uh, okay," Prentiss stammered as she picked up on the dark note Beck had left the discussion on. "What about, um, class-based uprising? Helter-Skelter?"</p>
<p>"There's no graffiti," Morgan pointed out. "No messages- at least not visible ones. There's no rituals."</p>
<p>"Manson's aim was to start a race war," Reid chimed in. "There's no proof of any hate crime here."</p>
<p>"The real hate crime was the fact that Manson ruined a perfectly good Beatle's song," Beck muttered beneath her breath, just loud enough for Reid to hear. She heard him cover a laugh with a cough, but didn't bother to look up to see him try to smother his remaining smile.</p>
<p>"The parent murders are brutal, messy," Hotchner said, his eyes glued to the same images Beck had been analyzing for the past couple of hours. "The instruments vary. Uh, golf club, kitchen knife, iron."</p>
<p>Beck shrugged. "All things that can be found inside of every suburban home."</p>
<p>"All symbols of family," Morgan added.</p>
<p>"But the kids were different," JJ spoke up from where she sat sprawled out on the couch beside Morgan. "They died by injection. Pentobarbital."</p>
<p>"It's a barbiturate sometimes used as an anticonvulsant for epileptics, anxiety disorders, and state executions," Reid listed off.</p>
<p>"Someone would have to have serious experience to be able to hit the direct vein in order to inject the dosage properly," Beck remarked. "Not to mention, have the means to get a lethal dose of such a controlled substance. The Unsubs definitely have experience and connections."</p>
<p>"The invasions are well planned," Hotchner deduces. "Phone lines are cut. Ligature marks show the parents were bound and gagged."</p>
<p>"Looks like these guys not only had narcotics experience, but also some robbery experience," Morgan pointed out.</p>
<p>Across from her, Prentiss nodded, her eyes not leaving her file as she added, "And then found their true calling..."</p>
<p>With the end of their pre-landing briefing, Beck and the rest of the team were now left to remain in the silence within the jet cabin.</p>
<p>Hotchner had gotten up momentarily to allow Prentiss the chance to head to the back for some coffee, JJ on her tail. Morgan took the time to lay himself out on the sofa, but his eyes never closed. And Beck remained seated beside Dr. Reid, her eyes still glued to these photos she'd already had engrained into her head, but the more she looked at the bloody images, the less she thought about the shaking of the plane and the impending doom that was just a couple thousand feet below them if something went wrong.</p>
<p>"One hour, sixteen minutes, and forty-two seconds left," she heard Dr. Reid whisper beneath his breath. She turned to glance up at him and he clarified, "Until we land in Denver."</p>
<p>Beck pursed her lips before turning back to the file in her hand. She winced when the plane shook a bit more. She slowly set her hand on the edge of the table.</p>
<p><em>Tap-hold. </em>Pause. <em>Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.</em> Pause. <em>Tap. Tap-hold. </em>Pause. <em>Tap-hold. Tap. </em>Pause. <em>Tap-hold. Tap. Tap-hold. </em>Pause. <em>Tap. Tap. Tap.</em></p>
<p>Beside her, Dr. Reid smiled down at her fingers after her little coded message had finished.</p>
<p>
  <em>Thanks.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>—</em>
</p>
<p>The city of Denver was sunny and cool at the time of the team's arrival.</p>
<p>It definitely didn't match the mood at the morgue. In fact, Beck nearly felt offended at just how bright and breezy it was when her and Morgan arrived at the Medical Examiner's Office.</p>
<p>"Agents Morgan and Ryder?" The Medical Examiner- 'Lewis' was plastered on his name tag, greeted the pair after they'd made it through the front lobby to the back where the main part of the morgue was. It was cold, stale... dead, in the room. Polar opposite of how it was outside.</p>
<p>Morgan nodded, confirming to Lewis who they were, but Beck's eyes had already found their way to the bodies beneath the covers on four separate tables around her from the minute her and Morgan walked in.</p>
<p>"The police department told me you wanted to look at the Halbert Family," Lewis exclaimed. He was a squeamish man. Beck could hear it in the tone of his voice of how he addressed them and spoke of the corpses. He'd called them by their names and not as though they were just what they were labeled as from the tags around their ankles. "I've taken a look at them myself already when they came in this morning. Parents both died from blunt force to the heads. Kids from injection of-"</p>
<p>"Pentobarbital," Ryder swiftly cut him off, her fingers slowly trailing along the edge of the sheet that covered the edge of Mrs. Halbert's lifeless body. "We read your preliminary report already, Dr. Lewis."</p>
<p>"Oh," was his only response. "Well, then, I guess I'll let you handle this." With that, he turned on his heel and nearly dashed out of the morgue door. It had almost been as though he had been waiting for an excuse to leave, a dismissal.</p>
<p>Beck smirked as she watched the skinny doctor leave, but turned her attention right back to the wounds she was getting a closer look at on Mrs. Halbert's limbs.</p>
<p>The pictures she'd been shown in the file by JJ did Mrs. Halbert no justice... then again, neither did this lighting in the morgue. Her skin was pale- almost grey. The bruises all up and down her arms, legs, collarbone, and stomach were visible but had now turned a deep magenta color, only a bit yellow at the edges. Her hair was matted down to her skull by all the dried blood. And her skull had been busted open by such force that if Beck peered close enough to the gaping wound in her forehead, she could see just where the golf iron had hit the bone in her skull and made an indention that would've ultimately led to her death.</p>
<p>After analyzing Mrs. Halbert's body, she moved on to Mr. Halbert.</p>
<p>Similar to his wife, he was in a shitty condition.</p>
<p>Well, shittier than what an average corpse could look like, if there even was an ideal way a corpse should look.</p>
<p>His body was littered with bruises, scratches, and marks. Just like his wife, there was a large indention in the right side of his face. The different between his wife's wound and his was not only the placement- hers was in the center of her forehead and his was on the side of his temple- but also how much force was used against Mr. Halbert. Upon closer inspection, Beck could see where the golf iron had made an indention in Mr. Halbert's skull. But because it was so close to the temple, there was only a fraction of the force used on Mr. Halbert than on Mrs. Halbert.</p>
<p>Beck took a step back and started to count the differences on both bodies.</p>
<p>Seventeen scratches, twenty-three bruises, and four puncture wounds on Mr. Halbert.</p>
<p>Twenty-two scratches, forty-five bruises, and seven puncture wounds on Mrs. Halbert.</p>
<p>Oh, yeah... there was definitely some more residual anger directed towards the mother than the father in these cases. She imagined that if she were to examine the other parents, she'd pinpoint the exact same pattern there as well.</p>
<p>"Find anything?"</p>
<p>Beck glanced up to see that Morgan was still in the room, in fact, he'd been watching her intently as she had been working her forensic magic.</p>
<p>The agent scoffed and nodded. "Just your average dose of mommy issues."</p>
<p>Morgan tilted his head slightly. "The mother has overkill?"</p>
<p>"Oh, without a doubt," she replied. "It's impersonal... almost a compassionate kill for the children. This seems to be all about the parents, more specifically the mother. But... overall-"</p>
<p>"They're attacking the family unit," Morgan deduced. Beck let out a sigh as she nodded, her hands on her hips as she glanced between the four bodies. That was understatement. They were ripping apart the family units by their teeth and leaving the team to pick up what was left of the pieces. This was... messy.</p>
<p>"Hey, Dr. Lewis!" Beck shouted to the man still standing outside the door. He glanced in at the sound of his name being called. "I'm gonna need to see the other families."</p>
<p>
  <em>—</em>
</p>
<p>"How were the bodies?"</p>
<p>Beck winced at the first question Hotchner asked both her and Morgan as they walked back into the station where JJ had already taken the liberty to get everything set up at the large table in the middle of the room where everyone else seemed to have reconvened.</p>
<p>"Mutilated," Morgan answered simply. "All of them."</p>
<p>"You looked at the other families?" Reid furrowed his eyebrows at the pair as Beck maneuvered herself around him to get to an empty chair between JJ and Prentiss.</p>
<p>"Yup," Beck chimed in as she threw her jacket over the back of the seat. "All kids killed with Pentobarbital. A single injection into the upper-right triceps. All parents brutally beaten or stabbed- overkill on all the mothers." With a heavy exhale, she turned to the coffee pot expertly placed on a cabinet behind her. She didn't bother asking if it was for them before she poured herself a mug full. She needed it after all the bodies she had just gone through.</p>
<p>"These guys don't lack confidence," Hotchner stated from where he stood at the far end of the table. "Targeting entire families is a high-risk endeavor." Beck rolled her eyes as she grabbed the cream to pour into her drink. These guys weren't just confident. They were smug with their kills. They thought they could get away with it which is why they continued to escalate.</p>
<p>"It's possible they're minimizing that risk by jamming cell phones inside the house. No one can call out," Beck listened to Reid explain as she slowly began to stir the creamer into her caffeine.</p>
<p>"High tech," a new voice piped up. Beck glanced over her shoulder to see, who she assumed to be the officer in charge, addressing the group. Hm, she hadn't seen him there earlier, but judging by how unruly his dirty blonde hair was sticking up and how his grey suit was partially unbuttoned without the tie, he was definitely not taking this case with stride. Then again, who was? "That narrows down the profile, right?"</p>
<p>Reid grimaced. "Not really."</p>
<p>"Oh, you can buy a hand-held jammer online for, what, 100 bucks?" JJ chimed in from where she sat just beside Beck.</p>
<p>Beck, still stirring her coffee, took this moment to turn to fully face the rest of the table. "75," she corrected the blonde seated beside her.</p>
<p>"You have one?" Prentiss raised an eyebrow at her.</p>
<p>"I use it for when the lady in the apartment next to me forgets that I exist at 2 a.m. when she calls her friends at the country club for hours on end," she answered simply, raising the mug to take a sip just as Morgan chuckled, his phone ringing shortly after her joke. Fucking Mrs. Stone, Beck thought to herself bitterly as the hot beverage stung going down her throat.</p>
<p>"Hey, girl," Morgan flipped open his phone to answer who Beck was assuming to be Penelope Garcia. "You're on speaker. Behave."</p>
<p>"<em>Or what, you'll spank me?</em>"</p>
<p>Beck choked on her sip of coffee.</p>
<p>Oh yeah, that was Garcia.</p>
<p>Morgan rolled his eyes, the new officer assigned to them suddenly looked extremely caught off guard. Beck had to cough some more to cover her laughs. She sobered instantly when she caught Hotchner staring at her from across the table.</p>
<p>"<em>So,</em>" the Technical Analyst immediately got to the point, hoping to avoid confrontation on the awkward situation that just ensued. "<em>I've been searching the area for unsolved robberies. I found four with similar elements- phone lines cut, small valuables only.</em>"</p>
<p>"Occupants tied up?" Morgan prompted.</p>
<p>"<em>Yes, but no homicides.</em>" Everyone around the table collectively frowned.</p>
<p>"Okay. Thanks, Dollface." Beck's frown deepened at his odd nickname for her. "I'll call you back." And with that, he shut his cell. Beck couldn't help but stay stuck on the name... Dollface?</p>
<p>"Well, if this is our guys, something made them graduate to murder," Hotchner remarked as soon as the call had ended.</p>
<p>"I checked out the Laybournes- they're first homicide victims- and..." Beck trailed off as she carefully set her coffee down. She didn't want to drink and revisit the images in her brain that she couldn't wash away of the family of four, specifically the parents. "It was brutal. Even more so than the others. It was almost like it had been a split decision to just... kill them."</p>
<p>"But, why?" JJ asked softly from beside her.</p>
<p>"If we can figure out what that trigger was, it might tell us how they choose their victims," Prentiss stated.</p>
<p>"Well, that would help," Morgan chimed in. "I've been looking into victimology and so far, there's really nothing to connect the families. Different political affiliations, different careers, different school systems. And at this point, it simply appears the Unsubs are targeting their victims at random."</p>
<p>"Which makes them more volatile, unpredictable," Hotchner concluded. "We need to catch these guys fast. They may strike again soon as they continue to escalate."</p>
<p>"Escalate how?" Lieutenant Nellis- Beck was finally able to remember his name.</p>
<p>"If the relationship between the two Unsubs grows strained as the escalation continues where the submissive no longer wants to continue, like in most cases, the dominant Unsub could take complete control," Prentiss explained to him.</p>
<p>"In less complicated terms," Beck took a sip of her coffee. "They could start killing the kids the same way they do the parents- violently."</p>
<p>Beck watched Lieutenant Nellis's eyes widen at her words. "I'll have all my units on high alert, searching high-end neighborhoods for any sort of patchy spots where their signal is jammed."</p>
<p>"That's a good start," Hotchner nodded in approval. "The rest of us will stay here, figure out what else we can find that can help us piece together the group profile so we can get started on the individual ones." With that, Hotchner and Nellis had wandered off to start setting up whatever patrol the Lieutenant had talked about.</p>
<p>After a few minutes, JJ had peeled away from the group as well. "I've gotta give statements to distant family members asking for an update," she explained, a deep frown on her face. She was probably going to need a drink after that conversation, Beck could already tell.</p>
<p>"Good luck," was all she offered her before the blonde left the table.</p>
<p>A few hours passed, mostly silence between the team members save for the occasional bouncing of ideas. Everyone had kind of separated amongst themselves at the table. Morgan had a series of files and photos set in front of him, his eyes still scanning to try and find a connection he might've missed between the families. Dr. Reid was standing before three whiteboards as he marked down the locations and attempted to make what he could from the geographical profile. Prentiss was juggling between the four previous robberies, trying to pinpoint what triggered them to upgrade to homicide. And Beck sat isolated at the edge of the table trying to piece all the clues she had.</p>
<p>Her notepad was set out for her as she jotted down what she could.</p>
<p>
  <em>Two Unsubs- a dominant and submissive.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Started with robbery.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Tied and gagged every time, including the homicide.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Control over the parents</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Made kids watch</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Brutal, bloody for the parents</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Peaceful for the kids. Mercy kill?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Pentobarbital- who else uses it?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em><span>Mommy issues</span>.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Abuse in their own home?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Attacking the family unit.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Hatred for suburbia.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Are the Unsubs related? Just similar past? How did they meet? How did they build this solid trust and twisted relationship?</em>
</p>
<p>Beck let out a heavy exhale. Too many details, too many possible motives.</p>
<p>The brunette grabbed her mug of coffee she'd been milking for the past couple of hours, only to find it empty... Great. And she still felt exhausted, wasn't the shit supposed to wake her up?</p>
<p>"You alright?"</p>
<p>Beck glanced up to find Dr. Reid had taken a seat beside her. Apparently he wasn't having much like either, seeing as he hadn't spoken to anyone in hours same as her. They'd both been in their own little worlds that just got too overwhelming.</p>
<p>She dragged a hand through her hair as she nodded. "Yeah... Yeah. Just, uh, kinda hitting a wall here, is all."</p>
<p>"Yeah, me too," he muttered, his eyes trailing to the other side of the room.</p>
<p>Beck followed his far-away gaze to peer over at the two boards across the table. Three different maps were splayed out before them, individual pictures of houses, red Sharpie marks that Reid had made, question marks, words decipherable only if you narrowed your eyes slightly. To the average person none of this would've made sense, and frankly, Beck didn't have it in her to turn on that part of her brain to even try to understand his geographical profile. No wonder he looked almost as worn out as she did.</p>
<p>There was a beat of silence between the pair and it was at that time that Beck had noticed Prentiss and Morgan had gone.</p>
<p>"Hey, where did Prentiss and Morgan go?" She wondered aloud.</p>
<p>Reid shrugged. "Morgan said something about grabbing take-out from a hole-in-the-wall two blocks West about an hour ago. Prentiss went with him. You were halfway through the newly released ME's report when they'd left," he explained.</p>
<p>Beck peered at the doctor beside her. "Do you do that often?"</p>
<p>"Do what?" His eyes caught hers as he turned to face her directly again.</p>
<p>"Watch people?"</p>
<p>"Isn't that our job?" He prompted her. "Watch? Analyze? Understand?" His eyes went back to the map across the room again. The words hidden in the lines between his questions didn't go unnoticed to Beck.</p>
<p>She tilted her head to the side, smirking slightly as she asked. "And what is it you're trying to understand about <em>me</em>, Dr. Reid?"</p>
<p>"The Bonsai," he answered truthfully.</p>
<p>Beck frowned. "Paris?"</p>
<p>Reid frowned. "You named your Bonsai?"</p>
<p>"...yes..."</p>
<p>"After Paris? The city?"</p>
<p>"No- of Troy," she corrected him with a smirk.</p>
<p>Reid cracked a smile. "You named your Bonsai tree... after a Greek prince?"</p>
<p>"A <em>gullible </em>Greek prince that was driven by beautiful women to do stupid things," she grinned. She expected him to argue, but after slight deliberation, she watched him shrug in acceptance at her over-simplification.</p>
<p>"An odd name for a tree meant to bring harmony and Zen to your workspace," he remarked. "Why name it after a... gullible Greek prince?"</p>
<p>He almost groaned in aggravation when he watched her shrug nonchalantly. "Liked the name."</p>
<p>"It has to have some kind of meaning to you that out of all the things you decided to name a tree, you choose to name it after Paris-"</p>
<p>"Have you ever stopped to think that not everything I do has a specific reason behind it?" Reid glanced over to her, looking completely shell-shocked by her words. Apparently he hadn't considered it. "Now," she slowly turned her chair to face him. "What's this really about?"</p>
<p>Reid pursed his lips. "You."</p>
<p>"What about me?"</p>
<p>"You're... a riddle. A frustrating riddle that gets more complicated every time more clues are revealed." Beck raised her eyebrows slightly. Hm, when she got on the jet today she definitely hadn't expected the usually quiet and timid doctor to compare her to a complicated riddle- of all things.</p>
<p>That's when he glanced up at her with a searing look that made her smirk vanish momentarily. She held her breath, almost as though she feared what his next question was. A question she didn't want to answer. A question she couldn't answer.</p>
<p>"Why do you go by 'Beck'?"</p>
<p>Beck blinked.</p>
<p>"S-" she coughed. "Seriously? You're worried about my name?"</p>
<p>"Well, yeah, it's something that's been bothering me since we first met," he explained. "You said it was preference, but Hawks never referred to you as Beck-" he noted her jaw clenched at the name, but continued. "-based on how little you discuss your family, I imagine you hardly visit which means you couldn't have picked up the nickname from them-" she looked away that time. "-and Gideon transitioned between calling you by your last name and your nickname, almost as though he wasn't accustomed to it."</p>
<p>At the mention of Gideon she had to hide her blanch.</p>
<p>"Reid-"</p>
<p>"By the way, what's your relationship with him?"</p>
<p>"Reid-"</p>
<p>"He never mentioned you, but he spoke about you and to you as if you'd been long time acquaintances."</p>
<p>"Dr. Reid-"</p>
<p>"He trusted you," he stated firmly. "Why?"</p>
<p>Beck's fingers flexed on the arm rests of her chair. She had pushed herself back into her seat, wishing it would swallow her whole so she could get out of this rabbit hole of a conversation. If she was a riddle, <em>he</em> was a rabbit hole.</p>
<p>"What's your history with Gideon?"</p>
<p>There it was. A question she couldn't answer.</p>
<p>"I..." She opened her mouth... then clamped it shut again.</p>
<p>What was she supposed to say? '<em>Sorry, I can't tell you about my past- and very brief- relationship I had with your previous boss because it involves discussing the fact that he was the one that found and rescued me from almost dying in a Vietnam jungle after running away from my past of being a child soldier for a guerilla war group for most of my childhood'</em>? Right, that was a hell of an icebreaker.</p>
<p>"Hey, guys."</p>
<p>Thank God for Emily Prentiss.</p>
<p>Beck and Reid glanced up to see Prentiss and Morgan had finally returned with their take-out. Almost immediately, they seemed to pick up on the tense air in the room.</p>
<p>Morgan glanced between the two. "Everything alright?"</p>
<p>Beck turned back to the Doctor seated in front of her. She noticed just how close their chairs had been pushed (or pulled?) together and took the time to push herself away about a foot from him. "Fine," she replied, adjusting her seat once more to face the two other agents, her eyes falling to the bags of food in their hands. "What'd you bring us?"</p>
<p>Morgan and Prentiss shared a loaded look, but ultimately made the wise decision of dropping the questions she knew were just bouncing off the walls inside their skulls.</p>
<p>"Well," Prentiss sighed as she set her bags down. "I know you like gummy bears. How do you feel about Pad Thai, Agent Ryder?"</p>
<p>Beck grinned.</p>
<p>
  <em>—</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Bzzzzz Bzzzzz</em>
</p>
<p>"Urgh."</p>
<p>Beck's hand slowly reached out from beneath the hotel sheets to grab hold of her phone still ringing on the nightstand a few feet away.</p>
<p>She brought it up to her ear and flipped it open, her eyes still closed. "What?"</p>
<p>"<em>Hi... uh, it's JJ.</em>"</p>
<p>Beck ran a hand down her face. "The Unsubs strike again?"</p>
<p>"<em>No-</em>" Beck momentarily pondered the thought of just hanging up on the Liaison seeing as it was only- <em>holy shit, 5 AM</em>- but then she'd be labeled as the Team Bitch, which was the last thing she wanted. Ending up like Gina Sanchez. God, she'd rather off herself. "<em>Actually, we were all going to go grab breakfast before we head back to the station and I wanted to ask you if you wanted to come along?</em>"</p>
<p>Well, this was... new. And odd.</p>
<p>Was this a test?</p>
<p>Was it going to be an interrogation like she had the day before with Reid?</p>
<p>Mmm, pass.</p>
<p>"I, uh. I'm not really a morning person," Beck muttered halfway into her pillow. "Raincheck for coffee at a more reasonable time, maybe? I had a long night." That... totally sounded bitchy coming out of her mouth, but it was completely true. She hadn't left the precinct until midnight, didn't hit the bed until 1, and couldn't sleep because all she was thinking about was whether or not the Unsubs were out there slaughtering another family while she got to sleep peacefully. And when she had eventually fallen asleep, it was only two hours before this call she was having right now.</p>
<p>Thankfully, JJ was a very understanding woman. "<em>It's no problem. How do you like your coffee?</em>"</p>
<p>Beck inwardly groaned. God, why'd she agree to coffee?</p>
<p>"Uh... as a chai tea latte with almond milk?"</p>
<p>"<em>Oh. Got it. I'll see you when you come in then.</em>"</p>
<p>"Sure thing," Beck replied, stifling a yawn. "Thanks, Agent Jareau- <em>JJ.</em>" She corrected herself with a cough. It felt weird calling a coworker by their nickname. No one at CTU did it for her, same way she never addressed anyone their by their first name. She wasn't even sure if any of them had nicknames. Califax, Adams, Sanchez, Spence, Summers, Hopkins, Hawks... Only Hawks called her Becca.</p>
<p>"<em>No problem, </em>Beck<em>.</em>"</p>
<p>The line went dead and the brunette set her phone back on the nightstand.</p>
<p>Her alarm may have been set for another half hour, but Beck still went to sleep that night with a small smirk on her lips.</p>
<p>
  <em>—</em>
</p>
<p>Beck was correct in assuming she was going to wake up severely sleep deprived and exhausted.</p>
<p>She was also correct in assuming that the Unsubs were going to strike again that night.</p>
<p>Beck had made it into the station fairly early at around 7:30. She'd taken a little longer than she wanted because she'd gotten caught up in how nice the water pressure was at the hotel, but when she eventually made it to the precinct, everyone was already back from their freakishly early breakfast and had already begun delivering the profile to the rest of the precinct.</p>
<p>"Shit," the agent muttered as she walked in through the side, looking out over the sea of cops, she spotted Hotchner and Dr. Reid up at the front of the presentation standing in front of the board of images of the mutilated bodies she'd seen for herself at the morgue yesterday.</p>
<p>Hotchner caught her sneaking in as she made her way along the side until she eventually made it to where Prentiss was standing. Beck was shocked when Hotchner didn't glare at her, his facial expression was unreadable (as per usual) but something about the way his lips drew into a slight frown almost made her perceive this look as... disappointed?</p>
<p>"Traffic?" Beck glanced up and away from Hotchner to find Prentiss holding out a plastic cup with a cap on it towards her. Right, her chai.</p>
<p>Beck took it and threw back a hot sip. Ooh, that was some good chai. "Something like that," she replied, chugging down a bit more of her drink in hopes that the sizzling burn of the liquid slithering down her throat would help wake her up.</p>
<p>As Hotchner continued to explain what profiling was to these cops spread out around the room, Beck took the time to place where the rest of the team was. Morgan was on the opposite side of the room, across from Hotcher. But... Beck immediately noticed a blonde head of hair was missing from the room.</p>
<p>"Where's JJ?" Beck whispered to Prentiss who shrugged back in response.</p>
<p>"Ran out of here earlier, something about a phone call."</p>
<p>"Hm," was all Beck replied, but didn't push it because Hotchner had finally gotten to the good part of the meeting.</p>
<p>"We're looking for two men, probably white, given the neighborhoods that they hit," he explained. "Mid to late twenties, intelligent, and organized."</p>
<p>"These are career criminals," Morgan picked up where he left off. "One or both has done hard time, but neither presents as a convict. They would appear clean-shaven, well-dressed-"</p>
<p>"Neighborly," Prentiss chimed in from where she stood beside Beck, still milking her chai for all it was worth. "This helps them talk their way into the homes. They may also be using a ruse."</p>
<p>"What kind of ruse?" Lieutenant Nellis called out. Good question.</p>
<p>Hotchner answered. "Given that the invasions have taken place in the evening, it could be anything. Could be door-to-door sales-" Beck frowned, those don't usually occur at night. "-person in distress-" More likely. "-car trouble-" Less likely.</p>
<p>"Uh, Derrick Todd Lee used a tape of a baby crying to get women to open their doors in Baton Rouge. Never underestimate their creativity," Dr. Reid exclaimed. Beck spared a small smirk at his example. It was like he was a walking Wikipedia of all things serial killers. She'd noted his use of an example with Gary Taylor last case they'd worked on. Maybe that was his thing. Serial killers... Well, he did have this job. Which, she thought was curious as well.</p>
<p>Three phD's at the age of twenty-six, he mentioned having one of the highest IQ's on the team (probably in the entirety of the District of Colombia), he was extremely philosophical and had a thing for puzzles (or... riddles, as he put it). With all of these traits, one would figure he'd go into something scientific like trying to cure cancer or some meaningful shtick like that. But instead, he was here hunting serial killers. Dr. Reid had called Beck a riddle, but he was an enigma.</p>
<p>Beck was here because it was all she had ever known. Why was Dr. Reid here?</p>
<p>"These men share a very tight bond and a mutual compulsion to kill," Prentiss continued, snapping Beck back to the present. "But their signatures reveal two very distinct personalities." Ah, now this was where she could chime in.</p>
<p>Beck opened her mouth to explain what types of personalities they were dealing with when Hotchner cut her off.</p>
<p>"One brutalizes the parents. This is the dominant one- sadistic, remorseless, extremely volatile." Beck wanted to glare at him, but all she could do was tilt her head in confusion as she watched him turn to her, as if giving her permission to speak now. She almost debated chucking what was left of her chai at him then, but she didn't.</p>
<p>Instead she opted for being equally as frustrating as he was being and clamped her lips shut like a child. She wasn't going to speak when instructed to like a good little soldier. If this was a test of some sort, he was going to deal with the repercussions of trying to play mind games with her. Especially this fucking early into the day.</p>
<p>Prentiss was glancing back and forth between Hotchner and Beck before just picking up where the Unit Chief had left off. "The other prefers a needle. His injections are consistent with an angel of death." Mercy kills, that was a way to put it. Honestly, Beck wished she had some Pentobarbital to use on herself after whatever that silent altercation was right there. "He's more withdrawn, sensitive, and he has a warped sense of mercy."</p>
<p>Beck heard shuffling off to the side and saw Morgan passing out fliers to the officers. "Agent Morgan is passing out a list of places where he might have access to the drug he uses," Hotchner explained to the group. Ah, so Garcia had gotten back to him about that already. "It's long, but-"</p>
<p>"Hotch."</p>
<p>Everyone glanced to the area behind Beck and Emily to see JJ had finally made an appearance. A very urgent one apparently. The Unsubs. "There's been another one, and they're sending an ambulance."</p>
<p>"Ambulance?" Both Prentiss and Beck furrowed their eyebrows in concern. That meant that...</p>
<p>"There's a survivor?" Hotchner asked. JJ nodded.</p>
<p>Shit...</p>
<p>Beck tossed what was remaining of her chai into the garbage as the precinct turned into an all-out frenzy of police officers being dismissed and called out to the scene with Lieutenant Nellis barking orders, telling them where to go. In a calmer manner, Hotchner called for his team to gather at the front of the room with him and Reid. They obliged.</p>
<p>"Who's the survivor?" Dr. Reid asked JJ as soon as everyone was gathered.</p>
<p>"Carrie Ortiz, the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Ortiz," JJ replied. "She was wandering the neighborhood streets covered in blood when neighbors found her and went to check the house and found..." she trailed off, her eyes falling to the floor. Beck's chest tightened at the thought of what they might've found if these Unsubs were getting more brutal.</p>
<p>"Alright," Hotchner exhaled. "JJ, Prentiss, go talk to Carrie, see what she knows or if she's even willing to talk about what happened." Prentiss nodded before letting JJ lead her out of the precinct. "Reid, Morgan, Ryder, with me at the crime scene."</p>
<p>Reid and Morgan started out to the door, Beck was right on their tail when she heard Hotchner call out, "Ryder." She turned to glance at him from over the shoulder and saw his apprehensive look. Great, they were going to discuss this now. "A word."</p>
<p>Beck let out a sigh before making her way back to the Unit Chief. "I'm sorry about being late. I forgot about my alarm and-"</p>
<p>"Ryder," he cut her off swiftly. "This isn't about the tardiness and you know it." God, she really wanted to strangle him with her belt sometimes. Maybe she should've thrown her chai at him earlier.</p>
<p>Beck took a deep breath, shifting the weight on her feet as she crossed her arms and tilted her head up at him. "Alright, then what is this about?"</p>
<p>She saw a vein pop out in his temple slightly as his frustration with her grew. Good, now he was feeling the way it felt working with him. "If this about what I told you after Portland, I'd suggest you speak to me directly about it instead of acting out."</p>
<p>The brunette guffawed. "Acting- acting out? Me? I'm acting out?" She sputtered in outrage. "You've been throwing me these little looks for weeks as if you're expecting something from me and the moment I try to pitch in today during the profile, you cut me off like you did on the Portland case and then act as though you were <em>giving me </em>a chance to speak after the fact? What the hell are you playing at?"</p>
<p>"You're late almost every day-"</p>
<p>"Traffic-"</p>
<p>"I read your previous work log from the CIA. You'd never been late even once despite the fact that you lived in a completely different city. You took the initiative and put in the effort to make sure you were on time every day," Hotchner stated.</p>
<p>Beck blinked, unsure of how to even respond to any of that. One thing she did know was that she was sick of finding out he was looking into her. If he was digging up these small details, how long was it until he dug up the bigger details? He already knew about a hundred and fifty-two big details he shouldn't have known about.</p>
<p>"So... this <em>is</em> about my tardiness?"</p>
<p>"No." Oh my God, she was going to punch him. "This is about the fact that you're holding this job- this team- at arm's length and pretending to be a subpar agent in an attempt to deter the rest of the team away from you, myself included. You're putting up walls with your actions and the only thing you're accomplishing is distracting the team."</p>
<p>"Distracting the team? How? I'm isolating myself, remember?"</p>
<p>"The more you push them away, the more they're going to wonder why. The more they wonder why, the more they're going to profile you and the less focused they'll be on these cases," he explained. Beck's mind went to how frustrated Dr. Reid had been when he was asking her a hundred questions the day before and wondered just how long these questions had been plaguing him and if he had been distracted during the case by just how much those questions were bothering him. He was just one team member, though. Were the others the same way?</p>
<p>Shit... Hotchner made a point she hadn't thought of.</p>
<p>"Ryder." She glanced back up at him. "I understand you keep secrets, and a few are for good reason." She was sure the number a hundred and fifty-two was flashing in his mind right now, but the only thing that was jumping around her brain right now was 'Strauss.' "But this isn't the CTU. The less the team knows about you, the more inclined they are to dig to find out. It's not because they want to use what they know about you against you, but because they just want to know you're someone they can trust."</p>
<p><em>Am I? </em>She wanted to prompt.</p>
<p>"So, what? You want me to spill my guts to everyone during circle-time on the jet?" She asked, quick-witted.</p>
<p>He scowled at her slightly as if her were silently scolding her.</p>
<p>She fought the urge to roll her eyes at him. "Fine. I'll be less... <em>me</em>, if it appeases the court," she said, throwing her hands up in defeat. "But don't expect me to tell them anything about..."</p>
<p>A hundred and fifty-two.</p>
<p>Hotchner frowned. "They're going to find out eventually."</p>
<p>Beck narrowed her eyes at him. "How did <em>you</em>?"</p>
<p>"Like I told you before, it was my job to profile you before you joined this team," he replied simply, leaving her with many more questions. Like how the hell she was going to get through being apart of this team without holding her secrets close to her chest.</p>
<p>She already understood these people didn't operate solely on working towards a common goal, like at the CTU. The BAU wasn't the CTU, they operated on trust <em>and </em>working towards a common goal. That was their team dynamic: family. But Ryder wasn't here to be a family, she was just here to stop killers. It was why she worked so well within the CTU because it wasn't about family, it was just about the job. It didn't matter who you were, what you did before, what your secrets were, what mattered was how well you did your job in the present.</p>
<p>
  <em>Maybe it should've mattered about what your secrets were...</em>
</p>
<p>A voice inside Beck's head that sounded alarmingly like John Summers said.</p>
<p>She took a deep breath in.</p>
<p>This team wasn't the CTU and Hotchner wasn't Bruno Hawks... or maybe she was being too much like Hawks in this equation here now.</p>
<p>But Hotchner was right, she had valid reasons to keep things from people. Here in the BAU and in the CTU. Her past before the CIA was what drove her to keeping secrets with the CTU, now here at the BAU it was her past before the CIA, her past with the CIA, and now her present secondary assignment with Strauss.</p>
<p>"<em>Fuck</em>," Beck muttered beneath her breath as she followed after Hotchner through the precinct. This job just got a hell of a lot more complicated.</p>
<p>
  <em>—</em>
</p>
<p>Morgan, Reid, and Lieutenant Nellis had taken a separate car and due to her and Hotchner's little meeting, they'd gotten to the crime scene ten minutes before they had.</p>
<p>The car ride over was silent, stiff, but when they arrived on the scene, the tension between them had been put on a back burner as all their attention was put onto the suburban house surrounded by dozens of officers and yellow tape.</p>
<p>As Beck climbed out of the SUV, she heard Hotchner's phone ring. He answered as they approached, but as he spoke to whoever was on the other line, Beck paid more attention to the scene they were walking into. Quiet, calm, but bustling all at the same time. Clearly, no one was inside the house, most of the forensics team was on the lawn, Beck could see Dr. Reid and Lieutenant Nellis talking to neighbors about what they saw off to the side. But the house itself... it was filled with this ominous presence just oozing out from each window, wall, and perfectly pristine drop of paint. It was tainted, just like the Unsubs wanted it to be.</p>
<p>The agent hadn't realized she'd been standing at the base of the porch steps for so long before she heard Hotchner approach. He was pocketing his phone when she quickly snapped out of it and fell into step with him up into the entrance of the house.</p>
<p>Morgan was waiting for them inside, frozen and unmoving as he glanced towards the open living room. It wasn't until Beck turned to see what it was he was looking at that the smell hit her.</p>
<p>She didn't flinch at the smell, though. She winced at the death in front of her. She'd seen quite a lot of death in her time, but she couldn't help but show some disdain for each dead body she saw.</p>
<p>Here, there were only two lying lifelessly before her now. Mrs. Ortiz, on her side, limp, laying in a pull of her own blood on the couch. And Mr. Ortiz, lying face-first on the floor a few feet away. There was blood everywhere, and for the splotches Beck couldn't immediately point out, there were large yellow number stands that pointed out just how much there was. Beck counted 58.</p>
<p>"Kid's in his room down the hall," Morgan answered the unspoken question neither Beck or Hotchner dared to pose.</p>
<p>"How old?" Hotchner asked dejectedly.</p>
<p>"Seven."</p>
<p>Beck glanced down and saw the red firetruck toy lying on it's side just beside Mr. Ortiz's body. Seven...</p>
<p>"You alright?" Morgan prompted the both of them.</p>
<p>Beck scoffed, but didn't answer.</p>
<p>Hotchner shook his head. "'Least they left the flowers alive, right?" Sure enough, off to the side of the living room was a clear vase full of blooming indigo irises.</p>
<p>"Was the crime scene touched at all since the daughter was found?" Beck quickly changed the subject. She noted that the father wasn't on the couch in front of the two chairs like the other fathers had been.</p>
<p>"No, they were found this way, but it looks like they were moved postmortem sometime before she was picked up," Morgan stated.</p>
<p>Hotchner turned away from the scene to glance at the agent to his right. "The daughter had blood on her when they found her?"</p>
<p>"She must have woken up, come out here, and found them."</p>
<p>Beck moved her way to the otherside of the chairs to glance back down at Mr. Ortiz, more specifically the blood splatters around him, Hotchner's words barely computing as he spoke with his back turned to her. "You answer your door, and the next thing you know, everyone you care about is gone."</p>
<p>She heard retreating footsteps as she lowered herself down at the edge of the white carpet. Faintly, she could see the slight bloodstains that matched those of bloody hand marks on and around Mr. Ortiz. Carrie Ortiz...</p>
<p>"If it was me, I'd wanna be gone, too," Beck turned to see Morgan frown down at the scene still. She wondered if this was one of those moments shared between teammates, but she was too focused on the scene to really take into account what Hotchner had said earlier about isolating herself.</p>
<p>Beck stood back up. "You said the kid was in his room?" Of course he had, but she just wanted to make conversation before walking off after what he'd just said.</p>
<p>"Yeah," Morgan answered, his voice losing that dejected monotone to make him sound less like he'd just been having a moment there and more like he was invested in this scene like she was. "Down the hall to the right, last door straight ahead."</p>
<p>She nodded to him, not bothering to spend another second brooding as she made her way down the hall.</p>
<p>There was no blood anywhere outside the living room, which Beck found less than unnerving because she knew that just because there was no blood, doesn't mean there was no death.</p>
<p>When she opened the door, she clenched her jaw at the sight of the young Daniel Ortiz lying face-first into his pillow. She had only been in the room for a minute or so when the forensics team came in with their gurney to take him away. She stood off to the side, letting them do their job, watching as they carefully picked Daniel's petite body and place him gently onto the gurney. The forensics team was just about to cover him with the white sheet when Beck exclaimed, "Wait."</p>
<p>They paused and she stepped forward. Without asking, she stole a pair of gloves off one of the officers and put them on. Carefully, she took his upper arm in her hands and traced her eyes along his skin. It hadn't lost it's color just yet, but he was still as cold as ice. He must've been dead since late last night.</p>
<p>Finally, after a few more moments of searching, she found the mark from where the needle's point of entry was. The exact same spot as every other child's that she'd examined back at the morgue. Exact. Same. Spot... So how had he missed with Carrie?</p>
<p>Beck backed away from the body once more and let the forensics team pull the sheet over and leave the room with the boy. She let out a heavy exhale as she peeled off the gloves and crumpled them into her hand.</p>
<p>"Find anything?"</p>
<p>The agent turned to see Hotchner had reentered the house and was now standing in the doorway of Daniel's room, his eyes on the gloves now crumpled in her hand.</p>
<p>"Nothing new," she replied as she turned back towards the bed that Daniel's body had just been lying on moments ago. She frowned.</p>
<p>"But something's still bothering you?"</p>
<p>Beck crossed her arms, her eyes not trailing away from the small indention in the middle of the bed. It was decorated with coral and didn't match the rest of the room plastered with baseballs, rocket ships, and cars. The only thing that matched the bed set were the many framed photos of fish on the wall on the opposite wall. Beck imagined if his life hadn't ended in this bed, Daniel Ortiz probably would've loved to see the ocean. She wondered if the seven-year-old ever got to from where he lived all the way in Colorado.</p>
<p>"This guy doesn't miss," Beck muttered. "His point of entry for the needle is in the same spot of the arm every time. Like he's done it hundreds of times before." She turned to glance at Hotchner. "He missed the vein on Carrie on purpose. She means something to the second Unsub or at least represents something or someone that Daniel and the rest of the younger victims didn't. If she didn't, she'd be dead."</p>
<p>Hotchner frowned and glanced down at the bed in a similar fashion that she had. Beck came to recognize this look as equal confusion.</p>
<p>"Hey, Hotch!"</p>
<p>Hotchner peeled his gaze away from the bed and made his way down the hall back to where Morgan was in the living room, Beck trailing after him, but not before throwing a final glance over her shoulder at Daniel Ortiz's room. As she made her way down the hall, she even dared to spare a glance at Carrie Ortiz's room. She really wondered what that girl was going through right about now back at the hospital. Nothing good, she almost wondered if her fate would've been better off if the second Unsub hadn't missed.</p>
<p>"They only take things with monetary value, right? Jewelry, cash, no souvenirs?" Beck heard Morgan ask from where he stood in front of the fire place as she walked into the room right behind Hotchner.</p>
<p>"Far as we know," Hotchner replied, Beck imagined he was as perplexed as she was to see where Morgan was going with this.</p>
<p>Morgan then took the time to point up onto the wall where a multitude of family photos sat. Images of younger Carrie and Daniel Ortiz, a wedding photo, a family photo... and a singular hook where a photo was missing. "One of them just broke pattern," Morgan remarked.</p>
<p>Hotchner turned to glance over his shoulder at Beck who met his gaze. "He missed for a reason," she reiterated to the Unit Chief. Something told her that if they were to ask Carrie, the photo that was missing from the wall would be one of her... She meant something to him. But what?</p>
<p>
  <em>—</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Carrie Ortiz</em>
</p>
<p>Beck jotted down in her notepad back at the precinct.</p>
<p>She'd been seated at the table once again trying to piece together a puzzle that just didn't seem to be making any sense. It was like she had all the pieces laid out and the borders were finalized, but then there was just a jumble in the middle that she couldn't quite get to. And the longer it took her to piece it together, the more people would fall victim to the center of that puzzle.</p>
<p>"Hey."</p>
<p>Beck glanced up from her notepad and saw Dr. Reid approaching the table. Most everyone else had split off, Morgan went for some more coffee, Prentiss and JJ still hadn't gotten back yet, and Hotchner disappeared to make some kind of announcement to the police about media coverage and keeping Carrie a secret from the press in case the Unsubs decided to come back and finish the job. So that meant, her and Reid were left alone once more like they had the day before.</p>
<p>"Hi," she greeted in response, a little hesitant for the onslaught of off-topic questions he would ask her about herself and her past and Gideon.</p>
<p>She was ready to make an excuse to dismiss herself from the table when she remembered what Hotchner had told her; that the less she gave them, the more they'd dig and look for themselves.</p>
<p>She took a deep breath as Reid grew closer and decided against faking the need to pee and hiding out in the bathroom until Prentiss and JJ got back from the hospital. She was adult (kind of) she could handle a brief conversation with the Good Doctor that may or may not lead to an all-out interrogation.</p>
<p>"Whatcha got there?" she asked, turning the subject to the handful of snacks he was carrying.</p>
<p>Reid glanced down at what she was referring to then back up to her. "Oh. I, uh, found the break room downstairs and kind of stole a couple of goodies for us," he explained with a sheepish grin. Beck watched as he dropped a couple bags of cookies, pretzels, fruit snacks and gummy bears onto the table between them. "You like gummy things, so I figured I'd grab some for you too," he said, taking a seat in the chair across from her.</p>
<p>She spared him a smile as she discarded her notepad and grabbed the bag of gummy bears. "Thanks," she replied. It wasn't lost on her that this was probably a bribe to get her to answer his questions from before, but she took the offering nonetheless.</p>
<p>An awkward beat of silence passed between them as Beck popped open her bag of snacks and Reid sat at the edge of her chair watching her in anticipation as if expecting her to pick up on their last conversation.</p>
<p>Eventually, he broke the silence. "I, uh, I actually got them to say I'm sorry about yesterday." Beck froze mid-chew. Hm, she wasn't sure what she was expected, but it definitely wasn't that. "I know you're not really used to being so... open with people because keeping secrets comes with the circumstances of your old job and bombarding you with questions probably wasn't the best way to approach that."</p>
<p>Beck bit back her reply of '<em>ya think?'</em></p>
<p>"And considering the environment of your last job and the clear trust issues from what happened with Bruno Hawks-" Beck visibly winced, but he continued. "I understand that being transparent doesn't come to you as naturally as it does for most people and I should do a better job at respecting the pace that you're willing to go to trusting us."</p>
<p>Beck sat there speechless for a while, processing everything he'd just said in rush of words.</p>
<p>He thought <em>she</em> had trouble trusting <em>them</em>... Wow. She let that one sit for a second. Suddenly, all the anxiousness in her body had dissolved and was being replaced by guilt. He was apologizing... to her... for being too curious... And he had these beady puppy eyes he was brandishing and, Jesus Christ, she suddenly felt like the biggest asshole in the entire state of Colorado right now.</p>
<p>"Dr. Reid, I-" Beck had begun, only to be cut off by the rest of the team walking in, JJ and Prentiss included.</p>
<p>"Ooh, don't mind if I do," Morgan was quick to snatch the bag of cookies from between Beck and Reid.</p>
<p>Beck threw Reid an apologetic look before setting down her gummy bears and turning towards the team members that had just entered the room, Lieutenant Nellis trailing along as well. "So... anything Carrie could tell you that we didn't already know about the Unsubs?"</p>
<p>"Yeah," Prentiss replied. "They're ruse."</p>
<p>"Oh?" Reid raised an eyebrow, back to his less kicked-puppy self as he popped open his bag of pretzels.</p>
<p>"Witness says these Unsubs are using cats," Hotchner stated. Beck noted the way he glanced at her then to Reid and back to her.</p>
<p>She shifted in her seat, popping a gummy bear into her mouth to try and distract herself from what he'd said about keeping people at arms length. "What? Like luring kids out with their pet cats?"</p>
<p>"No. Like... pretending that they hit a neighborhood cat then asking for a bag and talking their way into the house," JJ explained. Beck winced. Gross. Dead cats.</p>
<p>But... she had to ask. "Do they just... keep reusing the same cat?"</p>
<p>"It's unlikely that they are, so we should find out where they might be getting them," Hotchner exclaimed.</p>
<p>"There's plenty of strays out there," Morgan stated. "Nobody would notice if a few went missing."</p>
<p>"Or," Prentiss chimed in as she rounded the table, a cup of fresh coffee in her hands. "They could work someplace where they had access to animals."</p>
<p>Beck furrowed her eyebrows slightly. "Dr. Reid," the Doctor's hair flopped slightly as he turned his head to his name being called. "What did you say were the uses of Pentobarbital?"</p>
<p>"Anticonvulsant for epileptics, anxiety disorders, state executions, research labs, veterinary hospitals..." He listed off, the same lightbulb that had flicked on in her brain was now flickering to life inside of his as they came to the same conclusion. "Could overlap."</p>
<p>"I'll get Garcia to make up a list," Morgan said before wandering off to make the call. Beck wished she could hear the way she answered. She was curious about Garcia and Morgan's dynamic, they seemed to be the closest on the team.</p>
<p>"Carrie said that they referred to each other as brothers," JJ remarked from behind where Beck was seated.</p>
<p>"Would explain the trust they have in one another enough to kill together," Beck commented. "You'd have to be pretty close to someone to trust them with your dirtiest and despicable secrets." Beck had only glanced up through her bangs to catch the look Hotchner was sending her from across the table.</p>
<p>"It's not uncommon for duos to be related," Dr. Reid chimed in, and, as if on cue, turned to his trusty serial killer facts stored away in his brain. "The Hillside Stranglers were cousins. The Carr brothers perpetrated the Wichita Massacre." Beck chuckled slightly as she bit into another gummy bear. <em>Nerd.</em></p>
<p>"Yeah, but these two are of different races," Prentiss explained. "And Carrie said the Hispanic one did not speak Spanish, which makes me think-"</p>
<p>"Raised in a White household," Hotchner finished her sentence. "Maybe they're half-brothers."</p>
<p>"Or adopted," Beck piped up. All eyes were on her and in a split momentary decision, Beck did something she'd never done before... share personal details about herself without being forced to. "I'm... Vietnamese and I learned the language from Rosetta Stone, not my adopted parents." Beck glanced around the room and noticed Hotchner had given her a slight nod. <em>Yeah, be happy, you bastard. It wasn't like I had to choke that one out or anything, </em>she thought with disdain.</p>
<p>"Adopted," Reid mused from beside her. "That would explain a lot seeing that family destruction plays a role in the crimes. It could be a reflection of their own broken home."</p>
<p>Hotchner nodded once more. "This guy expressed affection for Carrie. We know he took her photograph. We can use that."</p>
<p>Beck narrowed her eyes, leaning back in her chair as she bit off the head of a gummy bear. "How?"</p>
<p>Reid answered, "If we release news of her survival, it might draw him out."</p>
<p>"Not comfortable with that?" Beck glanced around Reid to see Hotchner posing the question to Prentiss who clearly looked very <em>uncomfortable </em>with that idea.</p>
<p>"Okay..." she relented. "But I would be more comfortable if we doubled her security."</p>
<p>Beck sat straighter in her chair. "Wait, what about other families?" She prompted. "If the first Unsub, the one that beats and brutalizes the parents, finds out that the second Unsub spared a victim, he could break away out of rage and go decimate an entire family on his own. This time, without someone holding him back to take out the kids in a much less painful way."</p>
<p>"You think we should keep Carrie's survival a secret and wait for our Unsubs to kill again tonight for us to get another clue?" Hotchner asked.</p>
<p>"No. I think this press release is a bad idea because it means they're going to get worse when they find out we're closing in on them," Beck retorted. "I don't know about you, but frankly, I'd rather have two more dead kids killed by injection than have their heads bashed in like their parents."</p>
<p>She could hear the gasp from JJ behind her.</p>
<p>Okay, her choice of words might've been a bit harsh, but...</p>
<p>Hotchner's gaze hardened at what she said. "That's not your decision to make," was all he said in response before turning to Lieutenant Nellis. "Double Carrie's security."</p>
<p>"I'll have my guys do twice as many rounds in the hospital," Nellis stated.</p>
<p>"Thank you," JJ told the Lieutenant as he left to carry out his orders. "I'm going back to the house. Carrie's getting released today and is gonna need more clothes aside from her hospital gown."</p>
<p>"I'll come with you," Prentiss immediately jumped at the opportunity to get back to Carrie... or maybe just away from Beck after what she'd said.</p>
<p>"Reid, Ryder," both turned to Hotchner. Reid, expectantly. Beck, reluctantly. "See what you can find out from their past victims. We know they came from broken households, but something must've happened in their specific home that made them snap. Something that they see repeated in these families that they target. Find out what that is and we could find out who they are."</p>
<p>Beck clenched her jaw and begrudgingly nodded in agreement, not bothering to meet his eyes, her eyes boring into the bag of gummy bears in front of her.</p>
<p>Trust people... right. What a fucking joke.</p>
<p>Beck glared at Hotchner's back as he left, following JJ and Prentiss's lead. With the team gone, Reid was left alone with her again and she imagined that after her outburst that he probably wished to be anywhere but paired with her. So, she decided to make this as painless as possible. "Let's get to work," she muttered dejectedly, pulling herself from her chair to make her way to the boards of morgue and crime scene photos off to the side, making it a point to throw away her only partially eaten bag of gummy bears.</p>
<p>
  <em>—</em>
</p>
<p>"So, first robbery victims... the Matthises. Suburban neighborhood, all tied up, children taken to another room while they steal jewelry, gaming systems, electronics, money, and anything else with monetary value... Second robbery victims, the Hendersons... same case," Beck listed off, her eyes slowly trailing over to the photos of the first brutalized family. "The Laybournes..."</p>
<p>There was a slap of paper hitting the table behind Beck from where Reid had laid out the manile file containing any information on the Laybourne's individual case file. "Middle-class family, general amount of income for the area, two-story house, two cars, private education for the kids. Stolen items were about the same as the first two robberies," Reid listed off.</p>
<p>"But there had to be something that set them apart from these first to families that triggered the rest of the killings. Something distinct," Beck remarked, her fingers tracing the bloody images of Mrs. Laybourne's lifeless and mutilated body plastered on the board. "What was it?"</p>
<p>"Well, Mrs. Laybourne worked as a secretary at a Law Firm, worked long hours at the office, rarely home... could be that the Unsubs felt she was neglecting her family," Reid proposed.</p>
<p>Beck turned away from the board. Shaking her head, she replied, "No. It has to be something more than that... What did Mr. Laybourne do?"</p>
<p>"I thought you said the Unsub had more anger towards the mothers?" Reid prompted, glanced up from the files to her.</p>
<p>She nodded. "Yeah- I know what I said, but just... humor me."</p>
<p>Reid obliged and went back to the file laid out in front of him. "Uh, Mr. Laybourne was a team manager at a privatized construction company. Flexible hours, but strenuous and stressful work."</p>
<p>"History of DUIs? DWIs? Any skeletons in his closet that might've been caused by the stress of his job?"</p>
<p>"No... but..." Beck could tell he had just picked up on something from the way his forehead creased as his eyebrows furrowed.</p>
<p>"What? What is it?"</p>
<p>"Hand me that file," he gestured to the secondary file on her side of the table.</p>
<p>She pulled it towards her so she could read the title before sliding it over to him. "The autopsies? What are you looking for?"</p>
<p>She watched as Reid caught the file underneath his hand and flipped it open a few pages back. Once he found what he was looking for, he spun the file around and slid it across the table back to her. "This."</p>
<p>Beck leaned forward, her eyes narrowed as she read the page he was showing her. Elizabeth Laybourne's autopsy. Their daughter. Beck's eyes trailed down to the cause of death; Pentobarbital. Okay, that's not what he was showing her.</p>
<p>Reid must've picked up on her confusion, because it was then that he made his way around the table to her side so he could point to the lower part of the report. "Here. The coroner noted bruises on Elizabeth's stomach and torso."</p>
<p>"That's... odd," Beck muttered. "The Unsubs don't usually harm the kids."</p>
<p>"Unless it wasn't our Unsubs." Beck turned her head slightly to meet Reid's gaze, she was piecing together what he was just now. "The coroner made a note that these bruises were days old."</p>
<p>Beck glanced back down at the file, the pictures of Elizabeth's injuries plastered underneath the report. Oh, yeah, those bruises were not caused by a club, or an iron, or even a baseball bat... Those were from a balled up fist. "We need to look at the Laybournes' history. More specifically, Elizabeth's. If these bruises were days ago-"</p>
<p>"There must be reports of abuse dating back years," Reid concluded as he turned to a passing officer. "Hey, can we get everything you have on the Laybourne family? Domestic disturbance calls, school reports, anything you have from their history."</p>
<p>The officer in question threw his hands up. "What do I look like? A records officer?"</p>
<p>Beck rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "You look like an officer that's about to be put back on the beat shifts if you don't do as we ask. In case you haven't noticed, you have a serial killer in your city, so you can either decide to contribute in the miniscule way in which we're asking you to, or I can take my happy ass straight to Lieutenant Nellis and ask him where a dutiful police officer that <em>can</em> get me everything on the Laybourne family can be found if you're not up for the job, Officer... Brown," Beck gave him a beaming smile, following her verbal beat down and watched as the smugness slowly melted away into urgency. "So, what's it gonna be?"</p>
<p>Officer Brown frowned slightly. "I'll go get those files for you," he muttered before scurrying off towards where she assumed Records was.</p>
<p>Beck smirked momentarily before turning back to her work at hand. She hadn't noticed Dr. Reid staring at her so intensely until she realized he hadn't made a remark about the case and had been quiet for a solid minute. "What?" She asked immediately upon seeing how closely he'd been examining her while she wasn't looking.</p>
<p>"Where were you for all the other cases?"</p>
<p>Beck couldn't help but laugh at the implication that he'd always been so used to altercations like the one she'd just dispelled. "The Middle-East?" She jokingly replied.</p>
<p>"It's always so easy for you to get people to do what you ask," Reid muttered almost bitterly as she made her way back around the table to take a seat in front of the board once more.</p>
<p>She scoffed. "Yeah, but not everyone does what I ask, do they?" Beck bit her tongue when she realized how bitchy that sounded coming out of her mouth, especially when said bitchiness was being directed at the wrong person. She turned to see Reid staring at her, the discomfort clearly written in how stiff he got at the implication. "Sorry," she apologized. "Off-topic."</p>
<p>Reid didn't say anything after that. Not until Officer Brown came back with the Laybourne reports.</p>
<p>"I didn't think there would be this much," the officer explained as he set down the small stack of manila folders he'd brought. "Most of them are documented domestic disturbance calls, others are from CPS and DSS, medical reports on the kids... These guys were pretty fucked up. Who are they, the suspects?"</p>
<p>"No, the victims," Reid answered truthfully as he dove straight into the medical reports.</p>
<p>"Oh," was all Officer Brown responded. He didn't show any signs of leaving until Beck sent him a withering glare from over the file she had set in front of her. He didn't stick around long after that.</p>
<p>Beck was barely on the second medical report when Reid threw down the seventh file in his hands. "Here, Elizabeth Laybourne's file," he explained. "She'd been to the hospital two years ago for cracked ribs, but no investigation or legal action was taken because she claimed she had just fallen in the bathtub. Then last year, she was admitted to the emergency room for a fractured wrist that the doctors had described as having been 'twisted at an inhuman angle to the point where it had almost been a clean break across the bone.'"</p>
<p>"How'd they lie their way out of that one?" Beck wondered aloud.</p>
<p>"Mrs. Laybourne claimed it was a sports accident. Elizabeth Laybourne isn't in any kind of sport, the school doesn't offer them."</p>
<p>Beck scoffed. "<em>Please</em> tell me someone got involved."</p>
<p>"They did," Reid assured her. "CPS and DPS both had active cases on the family."</p>
<p>"But the Unsubs couldn't have known that, so if the abuse was what triggered the killings, how could they have known about it?" Beck asked.</p>
<p>"Maybe the first Unsub was abused himself and recognized the signs. Saw his own abusers in the Laybournes and then continued to see it in the rest of the parents that they killed," Reid deduced.</p>
<p>With his realization, Beck turned to glance up at him. "I think we just found our trigger."</p>
<p>"I'll call Hotch."</p>
<p>It wasn't long before the team convened back at the conference table. JJ was still out and Prentiss was on a call following a lead to do with some flowers delivered to Carrie. Now that the press, and quite possibly the Unsubs, found out about her surviving, someone had delivered a bouquet of those same indigo irises Hotchner had noted in the Ortiz's living room.</p>
<p>Morgan was the first to get back with Lieutenant Nellis, Hotchner entering the conference room not long after that. "What have you got for us?"</p>
<p>Beck and Reid stood at the front of the meeting area, stiff like two middle-schoolers about to give a very badly produced presentation on the amoeba. They glanced to the side at one another, a silent question passed between them about who would start first.</p>
<p>There was a pause before Beck ultimately took the lead. "Well, we went back through the families to take a closer look at what might've been the trigger, and we think we might've found out what it was."</p>
<p>Reid shuffled to the side as he turned to the photos he'd displayed on the clear board behind them, Beck narrowly moving to avoid him bumping into her. "This is the Laybourne house where we believe our Unsubs graduated from robbery to murder."</p>
<p>"What was so different about them that set the Unsubs off?" Morgan prompted.</p>
<p>"Not until we looked at the daughter's autopsy reports," Reid replied, turning back to the board again to point at the photos once more, more specifically the photos of Elizabeth Laybourne. "Uh, check out the bruises on her torso."</p>
<p>Hotchner's eyebrow raised slightly. "She was beaten." It wasn't a question, but Beck caught onto the unspoken question: by who.</p>
<p>"Not by the Unsubs," she stated. "Autopsy report said that the ME concluded that these bruises had been several days old. A closer look into Laybourne family history proves what we suspected."</p>
<p>"It turns out she'd been to the emergency room three times in less than two years," Reid picked up where she left off. "The DSS had even been notified."</p>
<p>"So the Laybournes were abusing their daughter," Hotchner sounded almost bored as he came to the conclusion they'd drawn up for him. "Where's this going?"</p>
<p>Beck fought the urge to roll her eyes. "She was abused. One of the Unsubs viciously mutilates the parents... what are the odds he himself was abused?" She saw Hotchner raise his head up slightly. "Catch where this is going yet?"</p>
<p>He looked like he wanted to punch her, but restrained himself enough to respond. "So, you're saying the Unsub recognized the signs of abuse, flew into a rage, and killed the parents?"</p>
<p>"And hasn't looked back since."</p>
<p>Beside her, Reid bobbed his head in agreement. "Anger displacement. He's getting revenge for his own childhood abuse."</p>
<p>"So..." the low vibrato of Lieutenant Nellis caught Reid and Beck's attention from where he stood off in the corner. "You think, what, the victims were beating their kids?"</p>
<p>"No," Beck answered as Reid stammered out a more reasonable explanation, "Uh, the Laybourne case was just the trigger, but now they see all the parents the same."</p>
<p>Liuetenant Nellis still hadn't quite caught on as the furrow in his forehead only got deeper. "That doesn't explain the kids."</p>
<p>Beck was ready to go on a spiel when, thankfully, Morgan chimed in. "Maybe it does. Think of the family annihilators John List and, uh, Mark Barton." Beck raised an eyebrow. Yet another serial killer nerd on the team. "They thought they were saving their kids by killin' 'em."</p>
<p>"But what is he savin' them from?" Nellis prompted.</p>
<p>"Life without their parents, without love," Morgan replied. "Life like his." His. The second Unsub.</p>
<p>But... people adopted wouldn't consider themselves to be without parents. Unless...</p>
<p>"They're orphans." Beck turned to her right at the sound of Reid's words coinciding with hers. Once again, they'd tapped into the same wavelength and had come out with the same answers.</p>
<p>Beck let Reid have this one, seeing as Hotchner was now standing in front of the board on his side. Reid turned to the Unit Chief, "What if they both grew up in a third-party household?"</p>
<p>"What? Like a foster home?" Nellis asked. God, Beck was going to bash his face into the wall if he asked another stupid question. Made her wonder how he even got the title of Lieutenant and made her regret not ever keeping her title of Doctor.</p>
<p>Nellis's question went unanswered when Hotchner added his own question to the mix. "Didn't Carrie describe an aversion to eye contact?"</p>
<p>Beck leaned forward to glance at Hotchner from around Reid. "Oppositional Defiant Disorder," both her and the Good Doctor answered simultaneously once more. Neither of them acknowledged the unison this time.</p>
<p>"Often seen in kids who grew up in foster homes," Hotchner deduced.</p>
<p>"They met in the foster home, were both abused, grew an attachment and profound hate that bonded them and are now killing entire families to deal with what they went through as children," Beck concluded as she glanced back at the board behind her. "Targeting entire families because you never had one... taking away kids' parents then their lives and pretending that it's <em>mercy</em>," the word slid off Beck's tongue as though it were acid.</p>
<p>Beck's eyes fell onto all the victims and their wounds, every splotch of blood, every purple bruise, every red mark from the beatings. Every photo depicted death. Cruel, vicious, unforgiving, unrelenting, and unfeeling death. The last thing there was even a speck of mercy. These Unsubs were killing to satiate whatever wicked thing that had been bred in that foster home that resided in them now.</p>
<p>
  <em>Bastards.</em>
</p>
<p>"Guys," the room collectively turned to the sound of Prentiss entering the room, a piece of paper held up in her hand. "I think we may have found our girl's secret admirer."</p>
<p>"Garcia traced the flowers?" Morgan asked.</p>
<p>"Yep." Of course she did. "Paid for by phone with a credit card under the name Robert Serrano."</p>
<p>Beck pursed her lips, not needing much more of an incentive to fasten the holster of her gun placed discreetly behind her back. Locked and loaded. "You got an address?" Beck eyed the paper in her hand.</p>
<p>
  <em>—</em>
</p>
<p>Beck and Morgan were asked to take the lead when they got to the Serrano house. Hotchner and Reid were right behind the pair, Lieutenant Nellis and his squadron not too far behind.</p>
<p>With her gun held out in front of her, Beck stood ready to go in, watching as Morgan carefully jiggled the front door handle... He turned to glance back at her, nodding. It was unlocked.</p>
<p>Without a second thought, Morgan pushed the door open and Beck swiftly moved in. The minute her boots crossed the threshold into the house, her gun was up as well as her guard. Her senses were on high alert as her eyes scanned her surroundings and her ears were open to the other noises inside that weren't the sounds of boots following after her. But she didn't have to go far before everything came to a stand still.</p>
<p>Lying on the ground in the middle of the Serrano house living room was whom she assumed to be Robert Serrano himself. Limp, bloody, beaten... dead.</p>
<p>Beck leaned around the couch to try and find where Mrs. Serrano was. She turned her head down the hallway and sure enough, she spotted a pair of legs tied at the ankles lying midway through a door, blood splattered from the legs. She was a long way from the living room and immediately Beck recognized the signs of deterioration. That first Unsub she'd warned Hotchner would get frisky, just got even more pissed off after hearing that news story about Carrie surviving.</p>
<p>Then Beck remembered what she'd said earlier that day... The kids.</p>
<p>Disregarding the two bodies in the living room, the agent speed-walked down the opposite hall, her gun still clutched in her hand. She was vaguely aware of the smell exuding from the house itself, but as soon as she pushed open the door to what she assumed to be the children's room, she had to hold her breath.</p>
<p>Lying sprawled out on the bed, no longer with their face pressed against the pillow, were two young boys... Dead. Their throats slashed.</p>
<p>Beck closed her eyes for a second, willing herself to walk away without punching the wall or do something stupid like go back into the living room and shoot Hotchner in the knee not listening to her.</p>
<p>Instead, she gathered herself, turned away from the horrendous sight in the kids' room, and walked right back into the living room. Hotchner, Morgan, and Reid all turned to look at her expectantly as she stormed out. She imagined the look on her face was one that could kill because Morgan moved out of the way real fast the moment he saw who her withering glare was targeted at.</p>
<p>Beck paused momentarily in front of Hotchner. He was about a good few foot or two taller than her, but she still looked threatening with the way she glared up at him and said, "They're in the bedroom." A flash of guilt flickered across his facial expression when he realized what her anger meant. "Go ahead... Take a look."</p>
<p>And with that, she brushed past him to get outside. Away from that scene. Away from that house. And away from that team.</p>
<p>
  <em>—</em>
</p>
<p>Ervin Robles.</p>
<p>They got a name off of a list Morgan had called Garcia about, had Carrie identify the Unsub that had spared her. Hispanic, heavy build, from a foster home, and worked at the Denver City Pound where he got his supply of Pentobarbital.</p>
<p>Beck was itching to get back out there, throw herself into the case to finish it up so she could get the hell out of there and away from Aaron Hotchner. Then write up that detailed report she'd been dying to type up since she first sat down in the Bullpen. But she should've seen it coming when he benched her for the better half of the day, even going as far as sending her home for the night.</p>
<p>She barely slept at the hotel that night. Took an hour long snooze and went out on a jog until coming back to the hotel for a shower at around 5 AM. It was around 7 that she got the call that she'd be accompanying Hotchner to interview the foster parents from the house Ervin Robles came from, more specifically the foster mother he and the other Unsub seemed to have issues with.</p>
<p>Just her and Agent Hotchner... this was going to be a trip.</p>
<p>Beck didn't bother to stop at the precinct, instead opting to shoot Hotchner a text that she'd meet him at the address JJ had given her over the phone that morning. She'd reached the residence nearly ten minutes earlier than they'd discusses, and what she arrived to was exactly as she would've imagined it as.</p>
<p>The Manwaring house was... normal. It was large, two stories, pillars over the freshly white painted porch, spotless open windows, a tree in the wide open lawn, a wide drive way, trimmed bushes along the side. But there was something off about it... It almost felt as though those wide open windows were hiding something darker inside. Of course it was, Beck had to remind herself. This house had bred two serial killers, there was no doubt that this place was haunted with the living wicked, but the outside appearance made it seem as though it was the opposite.</p>
<p>The most appealing prison.</p>
<p>The low hum of a car engine approaching down the street had the agent peering over her shoulder just in time to see a black SUV pull up into the driveway of the house. Hotchner stepped out.</p>
<p>"How was the Pound?" She called to him from where she stood waiting at the edge of the front porch.</p>
<p>Hotchner looked surprised at how little anger was in her tone of voice, but didn't press it. He probably figured most of it had worn out after he had given her the night off. He'd be mistaken. She was just good at masking it.</p>
<p>"He wasn't there," Hotchner answered the unspoken question.</p>
<p>"Figures," she retorted, watching as he approached. "That's why we're here isn't it? Place of employment doesn't know where he is, his apartment's been abandoned, still no idea which foster brother might've been our first Unsub, so you drag me out here... The source of the shit show." She gestured to the house.</p>
<p>Hotchner peered down at her having climbed his way up onto the porch, regaining his height advantage over her once more. Yeah, the anger was still there.</p>
<p>"Foster mom know we're coming?" Beck asked, changing the subject.</p>
<p>"No," was all the Unit Chief replied.</p>
<p>Beck straightened out as Hotchner led them to the front door. He knocked three times against the large wooden door. "Good."</p>
<p>Hotchner peered down at her, but before he could make a comment about what she'd said, the door opened. Standing in the entrance was a frail older woman. Sharp cheekbones, slender neck, large hands, intense frown lines on her forehead, and a perpetual scowl on her face.</p>
<p>"Can I help you?" Her tone was laced with both suspicion and annoyance.</p>
<p>Beck had never introduced herself of to a civilian while out in the field while she was with the CIA, and she certainly never produced her credentials. In the CTU, with their line of work, that kind of thing would almost immediately be what signed your death warrant. But, in this case, Beck was almost too pleased to whip out her credentials for the first time, flashing the badge in a similar fashion as Hotchner did beside her. "I'm Agent Hotchner, this is Agent Ryder. We're with the FBI." Beck watched as the scowl immediately slid away from her features, replaced with a wide-eyed doe like. "We wanted to ask you a few questions regarding a series of murders in the area."</p>
<p>"Oh- of course," she stammered as she pulled the door open wider. "Please, come in."</p>
<p>Hotchner moved slightly, allowing Beck to go in first. She could feel him close behind as they entered, both of them gauging their surroundings. Inside the house was almost as horrifyingly normal as the outside, but the first thing Beck noticed was the smell. Well, more like lack of smell.</p>
<p>Something she always associated with home was how it smelt. Every home had that distinct smell. For example, the CTU always smelt like freshly printed paper from just how much they worked. Beck's childhood home always smelt like charred firewood and that one caramel apple candle her mother always burnt. And Beck's apartment didn't smell like hardly anything because she was hardly ever there unless it was to sleep, not to particularly live there. This house smelt like nothing.</p>
<p>She imagined no one was actually <em>living</em> here, just occupying it.</p>
<p>"Mind me, I was just doing some house chores while Hal watches the game," Mrs. Manwaring swatted her hand up in the air, just in front of Beck's face, as she passed, leading Beck and Hotchner into the kitchen area.</p>
<p>The pair walked in and- God. Beck winced at the sight. She'd never seen such an empty kitchen. Every wall and counter was bare, save for a few appliances, a clock, and a calendar on the wall, but no theme or decorations. It was dead in this room.</p>
<p>"Now," Mrs. Manwaring stopping at the edge of the counter and turned back to face them. "What is this about the murders? Is it someone I may know?" If it was, Beck doubted she'd be too broken up about it.</p>
<p>"We believe the suspect we're looking for is one of your former foster children by the name of Ervin Robles," Hotchner explained to her.</p>
<p>As suspected, she blanced, "My God. Ervin? Well..." she let out a heavy sigh as though she wasn't at all surprised. "I mean, he had behavior problems. They all do-" Beck had to bite her tongue. "But nothing we couldn't handle."</p>
<p>"And he hasn't been acting alone, Mrs. Manwaring. He's got a partner," Hotchner added.</p>
<p>"He referred to him as his brother, which has led us to believe that you not only raised <em>one</em> serial killer, but <em>two,</em>" Beck chimed in. She heard Hotchner take in a sharp intake of air from beside her, but the agent didn't care as she watched a flicker of something that resembled embarassment flash across Mrs. Manwaring's features. She was pretty sure it was the physical embodiment of something withering up inside of her and dying. Good, maybe she'd feel just a fraction of the way a few of these families probably felt just before being killed at the hands of her creations.</p>
<p>Just then, a young boy entered the room. He hadn't seemed to notice them in the kitchen until Mrs. Manwaring spoke up. "Tyler," he turned to her. "The adults are talking here."</p>
<p>The kid looked to her and back to the fridge, a hesitant look in his eyes as his fingers played with the knob of the fridge, but he didn't open it. "I just want some milk," he explained simply. "Can you open the fridge?" What?</p>
<p>Beck turned back to Mrs. Manwaring as she scolded him, "You know the rules." That's when Beck saw it; just below the small cross around her neck, there was a darker necklace beneath it, dangling at the end of it was a large key... <em>Oh, you've got to be kidding me.</em></p>
<p>When Beck glanced back at the kid, he looked just about ready to strangle her himself as he walked away back the way he came. "Ugh," Mrs. Manwaring huffed. "They''ll eat you out of house and home if you let them."</p>
<p>"For every child you foster, the state gives you a check in order to maintain their well-being," Beck retorted. "You get paid to allow them to 'eat you out of house and home,' as you put it. So is there a reason you're policing the way these children eat or is that you're just greedy with the money the state provides you for what you doing?"</p>
<p>Mrs. Manwaring blinked once, her eyes trailing to Hotchner as if to ask him for help before turning back to Beck. "I'm not sure what you're insinuating-"</p>
<p>"I'm not insinuating anything. I'm asking whether or not all you see are pay checks when you foster these kids."</p>
<p>Mrs. Manwaring blanched. "Excuse me?"</p>
<p>Hotchner took that opportunity to move in swiftly. "Is there anyone Ervin was especially close to while in your care? Someone he would have looked up to? Somebody who protected him?"</p>
<p>The question must've meant something to her, because Mrs. Manwaring dropped her retort to Beck's remark quite quickly. Her eyes widened and she nodded, a single name left her mouth, "Gary."</p>
<p>Mrs. Manwaring abruptly turned on her heel, Hotchner and Beck following until they reached the living room, just in front of the fire place. Unlike the kitchen, this fireplace was filled with candles, wreathes, and dozens of photos. Photos of young children, teenagers, older kids. By themselves, with someone else, at events, with the family, at the house. They were all smiling, though, which somehow made it worse the longer Beck stared at this wall.</p>
<p>As Mrs. Manwaring picked up a picture to show them, Beck realized what this wall was for as she pointed to the photo inside the frame she'd picked up. On it were two boys; a Hispanic boy with a dead gaze, and a White blonde boy with his head tilted up, standing in a cocky manner while the boy beside him was seated. Ervin and Gary.</p>
<p>"We tried with him, but... he tested us."</p>
<p>This entire wall of framed photos was nothing but a fucking show and a way for them to keep track of who all went through their house.</p>
<p>"Have you kept in touch with him?"</p>
<p>Unsurprisingly, she answered, "Oh, God, no. Gary left the day he turned 18, never looked back."</p>
<p>Beck had opened her mouth to reply 'wonder why,' but clamped it back shut when she saw the pointed glare Hotchner was sending her way while Mrs. Manwaring was turned away.</p>
<p>"Ervin was a mess when he got here," Mrs. Manwaring continued her explanation as she put the photograph back onto the fireplace. "Got separated from a younger sister."</p>
<p>"Where did she go?" Beck prompted. Maybe if Ervin knew where the sister was, he'd go to her.</p>
<p>Manwaring shrugged. "Nobody told me. Siblings get separated all the time. But," she turned to glance up at her wall of all the kids up above. "They find new ones here." Somehow, Beck doubted that.</p>
<p>"Like Ervin found Gary," Hotchner muttered, a frown playing on his lips.</p>
<p>The cell in his pocket disrupted the conflicting thoughts he was having just then. He answered, "Hotchner.. yeah, just leaving." And with that the call was over. Beck tilted her head, silently questioning. He turned to her, "Ervin returned the call. He's on his way to work."</p>
<p>Beck's jaw clenched, she moved swiftly around Mrs. Manwaring, not bothering to acknowledge her even after Hotchner extended his thanks as they left out the front door of that desolate house.</p>
<p>
  <em>—</em>
</p>
<p>While Hotchner went back to the precinct, Beck headed straight to the Denver City Pound to intercept Ervin with Morgan and the squadron Nellis had pulled together for them.</p>
<p>The minute Beck pulled up, she was met by Morgan. She parked in an empty parking lot across the street from the back Pound entrance. She got out and approached where he stood with the rest of the squadron gearing up behind empty trashcans so not to set off any alarms for when Ervin arrived.</p>
<p>"How was the foster home?" Morgan greeted her as he held out a vest.</p>
<p>Beck scowled as she took it. She shed her jacket before carefully slipping into the hefty bulletproof vest. "Two serial killers were raised under the same roof and started attacking families to deal with how shitty theirs was," she muttered, her hands coming around her sides to tighten the straps on herself. "How do you think it was?"</p>
<p>"Horrible," he answered truthfully. "Hotch tear into her?"</p>
<p>She scoffed. "Nope... but I got a few jabs in. Don't think he was very happy with it."</p>
<p>Morgan chuckled, pushing up off the front of his SUV grill to hand her the gun she'd set on the hood in order to pull on the vest. "Well, hopefully you can get a few jabs in with this one, too."</p>
<p>Beck peered up at the small smile playing at his lips, the gun in his hand still extended to her. She realized that this was almost like a peace offering. A way of him saying 'yeah, our boss can be a hardass, but you've got allies.' And this time, she actually accepted it. Both the gun and his offering. "Hopefully," she agreed, holstering the gun at the back of her waist once more.</p>
<p>"Hey," both Morgan and Beck turned to find one of Nellis's guys calling them. "We've got a car matching the description of the subject's approaching from the West side of the street. We're getting into positions."</p>
<p>The pair turned back to one another and exchanged a brief nod of agreement. The officer turned to lead the way towards the Pound entrances where the large squadron would be ambushing Ervin, Beck and Morgan followed.</p>
<p>"You've got my back?"</p>
<p>Beck turned at Morgan's question. "Well, I'm not going to hold you at gunpoint again, if that's what you're asking."</p>
<p>Morgan couldn't help but laugh. "Good to know, either way." As they grew closer to the Pound, Morgan paused. "Alright. These is where we part. See you on the otherside, Ryder."</p>
<p>Beck nodded to him. "Stay sharp."</p>
<p>Morgan smiled. "Get in a few good hits for me, if you can."</p>
<p>Beck smirked before trudging off to her hiding place in the parking lot. Four other officers were scattered on her end of the parking lot as well, Morgan was up with the second half of the squadron near the back entry way where Ervin would be heading when they'd cut him off. And it wasn't long until he eventually parked and started his walk up to the entrance.</p>
<p>"<em>Subject approaching on foot from North Alley."</em></p>
<p>That was their cue. Beck turned the corner from the trash can carefully moved in. She spotted that bastard, a few yards ahead going towards where Morgan was. She was getting closer, but was quiet to the point where not even she was able to hear herself moving.</p>
<p>She was just a few feet away at that point when she moved off to the side as he turned in. At that point, Morgan came out from his hiding place, gun raised and directed at the Unsub. "Ervin Robles, right there! Get your ass down on the ground right now- Ervin!"</p>
<p>As suspected, he turned on his heel to try to make a run for it. But, thankfully, the group had planned ahead.</p>
<p>The minute he'd turned, Beck was there. She swung her arm out and upwards, hitting him square in the face and knocking him down on his ass with a 'hmph!' Before he fell, Beck thought she had heard a crunch when her arm made contact with his nose. She smirked when the hand that had covered his nose after the fall moved slightly, revealing his bloody nose. Broken, no doubt.</p>
<p>Beck glowered at him as she holstered her weapon. "Nice try. Unlike those little kids though, I'm not someone you can just shoot with a needle and be done with," she muttered as she yanked his arm up and shoved him down by his face into the asphalt, turning him over on his stomach. As she pulled both his arms back to cuff him, she leaned forward to hiss into his ear, "But by the time we're finished with you, you're going to wish you could die as painlessly."</p>
<p>He moaned and whimpered as she yanked him back up onto his feet. "She broke my nose!" He cried out as Morgan and the rest of the officers approached.</p>
<p>"She should've done a lot more than just that," Morgan retorted, taking him by the arm and handing him off to the two armored officers beside him. Beck watched him go. "Did you actually break his nose?" Morgan asked her after Ervin had been shoved into the back of a cop car nearby, the blood from his nose now drenching the front of his white Henley.</p>
<p>Beck shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe."</p>
<p>The precinct was quite as Morgan and Beck came through, Ervin Robles in tow... Well, more like barely managing to move his legs fast enough to keep pace with how fast Morgan was dragging him to the interview room. She imagined the stares were both from the fact that this man had been partly responsible for the murder of all those families and also that his bloody nose had only gotten worse since the arrest.</p>
<p>She imagined most people probably appreciated her exaggerated use of force against the guy... but Hotchner wasn't most people.</p>
<p>Morgan had already taken Ervin in when Beck had gone to take off her heavy vest in the other room. She was on her way back in when she was stopped by Hotchner holding a hand out in front of her, halting her in her tracks.</p>
<p>She glanced up at the towering Unit Chief, a look on her face portraying that of irritation. This was getting old. "What?"</p>
<p>"You broke his nose?"</p>
<p>Irritation morphed into disbelief. "He killed those kids-"</p>
<p>"You're letting your anger get to you," he told her simply.</p>
<p>"As far as I'm concerned, he's lucky he's able to open his mouth enough to even complain about his nose," she retorted. "He murdered <em>six</em> children- almost <em>seven</em>- and you want to talk about <em>my</em> anger issues? Maybe you aren't angry enough."</p>
<p>Hotchner stared down at her, his jaw tight and his facial expressions unreadable. After a beat of silence, he finally said something. But it wasn't anything Beck wanted to hear. "I'm not permitting you to speak with him. You can spectate, but letting you go in there after what you did isn't going to help anything."</p>
<p>"He's already scared of me! I can use that to make him talk!"</p>
<p>"How? More violence? Are you going to break any of his other bones? Because the only thing you'd be succeeding at is breaking the law," he stated. "Ervin isn't going to respond to violence."</p>
<p>The agent raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh? How's he responding to mind tricks right now?" She saw his jaw clench slightly. Not too good, it seemed.</p>
<p>"We're also profilers, Ryder, we don't torture people for information. We use our knowledge about their psychological profile to get them to speak to us willingly."</p>
<p>Beck let out a humorless scoff. A lesson on violence, the law, and profiling. She felt like a student all over again.</p>
<p>"We're bringing in Carrie to speak with him," Hotchner explained, changing the subject so as to diffuse the discussion and get back to the case. "You were right, he spared her for a reason and it's more than likely that he sees her as the little sister he lost. We think she can get him to talk."</p>
<p>Beck couldn't meet his eyes as she asked, "And if it doesn't work?"</p>
<p>There was silence for a minute.</p>
<p>"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he eventually answered. "Until then, you can spectate." She didn't acknowledge him as he left back into the spectator room, she didn't even follow him at first. She just looked up at the ceiling and focused on anything but the image of her hands around his throat.</p>
<p><em>Breathe, </em>she reminded herself, <em>just breathe.</em></p>
<p>And with that, she let out that exhale and stepped inside. Just in time, too, seeing as when she walked into the spectator room, Prentiss was just now walking in with Carrie. Ervin, who still had dried blood all down the front of his shirt, perked up at the sight of Carrie.</p>
<p>"Hey, you're here," she heard Ervin greet Carrie from where he sat at the metal table. He was ecstatic, perking up the minute his eyes sought her out.</p>
<p>Carrie, however, looked less than enthusiastic about this reunion as she took a seat across from him. She threw a nervous glance over her shoulder at Prentiss while doing so.</p>
<p>"Is she okay with this?" Beck asked the other spectators in the room that consisted of Hotchner, Morgan, JJ and Lieutenant Nellis.</p>
<p>JJ huffed slightly as she crossed her arms over her chest. "She said she was..."</p>
<p>"Doesn't look like it," Morgan remarked.</p>
<p>"She's having a one-on-one with one of the bastards responsible for killing her entire family and sparing her, I'd imagined the last thing she is right now is okay," Beck muttered, turning her attenion back to the room.</p>
<p>"Did you get, uh... Did you get the flowers that I sent?" Ervin stammered out to Carrie, his eyes darting back and forth between her and his lap.</p>
<p>Carrie nodded. "Y-yeah..." Ervin smiled. "Pretty."</p>
<p>"They were to say that, uh," the smile on his face vanished, replaced with a look of guilt. "That I'm sorry."</p>
<p>Carrie rocked slightly in her chair. Beck watched as she turned to the right of her, looking to Prentiss for where to take that. Luckily, Prentiss was able to do what she was there to do: help.</p>
<p>"Flowers aren't enough, Ervin," she told him. "We need Gary."</p>
<p>Immediately, his eyes fell back down to his lap. "That won't make it up, though."</p>
<p>"It's a start," Prentiss persisted.</p>
<p>"No!" Ervin protested, his eyes coming back up as he addressed Carrie now. "They're gonna send you away now. Don't you say that? That's what they do with all the strays- they send them away... That's why I make them go to sleep, so that they don't have to suffer." He was probably fed this bullshit by Gary, Beck thought to herself. Gary wanted to kill as a substitute for their foster family, but Ervin showed hesitance so he spun this stupid lie comparing orphaned kids to stray pets abandoned by their owners to get Ervin to kill with him.</p>
<p>Sick fucks.</p>
<p>"Ervin," Prentiss cut in, pulling his attention away from Carrie again. "More people are going to suffer if we can't find Gary."</p>
<p>"So when you killed my brother-" Carrie suddenly cut in. "You were doing him a favor?"</p>
<p>"It's true!" Ervin exclaimed.</p>
<p>"And what about <em>me</em>?" Beck's eyes widened slightly. This just got interesting.</p>
<p>"Wait," Prentiss tried to cut back in. "Let's just address one thing at a time-"</p>
<p>"'Cause I just wanted to see you again," Ervin said, tears welling in his eyes as he shook his head. "You look so much like Lucy. I just... I couldn't- I- I know it's selfish, but-"</p>
<p>"<em>Selfish</em>?" Carrie shouted. "It's <em>insane.</em>" Oh, this girl had no plans of letting this man reason with what he did, and Beck couldn't help but respect her for that. The respect only grew more when Prentiss attempted to get Carrie to take a break, setting a hand on her arm that Carrie shook off. She turned right back onto Ervin and went in once more. "What happened to you that was so bad?" She demanded to know.</p>
<p>Ervin's eyes fell into his lap, only this time, it wasn't because he was averting eye contact... it was because he was recalling his memories.</p>
<p>"She used to make it... go dark." Beck inferred who that 'she' was almost immediately. Mrs. Manwaring. "I mean, that's what we used to call it. She would... put me in the bath to pray... And then she'd hold my head down... under the water," Ervin's voice cracked as the tears welled in his eyes. Eyes that were slowly coming up to meet with Carrie's once more as he continued. "Sometimes I could stay awake for like a minute... and sometimes a little more... And then it would all go dark..."</p>
<p>Inside the spectator room, Morgan turned to Hotchner. "They've still got kids in that house."</p>
<p>"Another kid, another welfare check," Lieutenant Nellis reiterated Beck's point she had made to Mrs. Manwaring back at the house.</p>
<p>Hotchner caught their point. "Let's call DSS and see if we can get them out of there."</p>
<p>"DSS, right..." Beck muttered, her eyes still facing forward through the glass. "Look how helpful they were when it came to Elizabeth Laybourne." The silence grew tense inside the room after her remark, so Beck just turned her focus back to the interview room where Carrie abruptly reached across the table to take set her hand atop Ervin's fists.</p>
<p>"What is she doing?" JJ craned her neck to try and see if what they were all seeing was correct.</p>
<p>Prentiss jolted, as if she were going to make the move to pull her back, but Carrie didn't know any better. Even if she had, it didn't seem like she cared. It looked as though all she cared about was getting answers, even if it meant giving up her comfort to get them.</p>
<p>"She's getting answers," Beck replied.</p>
<p>"They can't hurt you anymore, Ervin," Carrie reassured him in a soft whisper.</p>
<p>Ervin broke then. "I wanted to stop, but Gary, he- he went through it way, way worse when we were kids, and he... he never got the chance to fight back."</p>
<p>"So he fought those other families," Prentiss concluded in a voice that portrayed just how disgusted she was of Ervin's reasoning behind Gary's motives.</p>
<p>Ervin nodded. "Only because I wouldn't go back."</p>
<p>"Back?" Prentiss asked the question everyone in the spectator room was asking silently to themselves. "Gary's going to your foster home... isn't he?"</p>
<p>Hesitantly, Ervin's head bobbed up and down ever so slightly in confirmation. The minute he gave up the answer, Carrie withdrew her hand as though it had been burning her to touch him this whole time. When both her and Prentiss turned their heads back to the glass, Beck could tell that all of the things she'd been repressing towards the murderer sitting across from her were boiling up to the surface now that she was finished, that she had gotten her answers.</p>
<p>"Get him out of there," Hotchner instructed immediately to the two officers that had been waiting near the door for his signal. They didn't hesitate to obey orders.</p>
<p>Beck watched. Ervin was escorted away, his eyes still glued to Carrie and all he could see was his sister and not what he had done wrong. Carrie, who was keeping her head bowed as he left, was stiff as a board up until the door shut behind Ervin and the officers after they'd left the room. And like a rope that had been pulled apart, thread by thread, Carrie finally snapped.</p>
<p>The sobs echoed into the spectator room as the young girl cried into Prentiss's shoulder, unrelenting and with no resolve. She just cried and shook and sniffled, letting every emotion she'd probably been holding in since she'd been picked up from her neighborhood finally be let out.</p>
<p>"She's strong," Beck remarked.</p>
<p>"She shouldn't have to be," JJ replied.</p>
<p>
  <em>—</em>
</p>
<p>Within the hour, Hotcher had assembled a squadron of police to head to the foster home. Beck was mildly shocked when he'd asked her to come along.</p>
<p>The SUV pulled into the large drive thru, parked in between to squad cars. Beck so hoped she'd be able to see Mrs. Manwaring be shoved into the back of one of them.</p>
<p>The minute the SUV came to a stop, Beck was climbing out of the passenger's side seat. Dr. Reid, who'd also been tasked with coming along, followed her lead while the rest of the squadron made their way towards the back to canvas the rest of the house, make sure Gary wasn't hiding out or on his way in to kill her just yet.</p>
<p>As if on cue, Mrs. Manwaring came stumbling out of her house, that scowl still painted on her face as she took in the scene in her front lawn. "What is all this?" She demanded as Beck, Hotchner, Reid, and Lieutenant Nellis all made their way up the porch towards her.</p>
<p>"We have reason to believe that Gary may be on his way here to hurt you," Hotchner explained.</p>
<p>Beck thought it was funny at how surprised she sounded when she gasped, "Me? I don't understand-"</p>
<p>"These murders are rehearsals of what he wants to do to you," Dr. Reid cut her off swiftly, the tone in his voice suggesting that he was about as pissed with her as Beck was herself. She noticed that Hotchner didn't reprimand him the way he did with her as he sauntered past Mrs. Manwaring on the porch towards the front door.</p>
<p>"Because of what you did to him in this house," Hotchner remarked, not bothering to sugarcoat his disdain for her like he had the last time he and Beck were here.</p>
<p>"I don't know what you're talking about-!" Mrs. Manwaring shouted at Hotchner as she followed after him.</p>
<p>"You don't know what we're talking about?" Beck cut her off, her hand coming out to snap the key still tied around her neck. Mrs. Manwaring gasped, her eyes wide as Beck came toe to toe with her, dangling the necklace in front of her. "Ervin said you used to make them pray in the bathtub. Make it 'go dark.' You wear the key to the food supply around your neck. And after all of what I've heard so far, I doubt it gets any better." Mrs. Manwaring's eyes looked as though they were going to pop out from how wide they were after what she'd been told. "Still don't know what we're talking about?"</p>
<p>"Ma'am," Beck didn't take her glare off of Mrs. Manwaring as she turned at the sound of Hotchner's voice. "We don't have time to debate this. The fact is, you and your husband are in danger."</p>
<p>"I-I have to pick up the children at school," she stammered. Beck rolled her eyes, Reid glancing down at his feet in sync.</p>
<p>"We'll send someone to pick them up," Hotchner replied. Literal translation: <em>yeah, you're not going anywhere near them. </em>"The only way we can protect you is if you go back inside."</p>
<p>As if testing, Mrs. Manwaring turned from Hotchner back to Beck and Reid where they stood blocking her exit from off the porch. Reid raised his eyebrows at her, and Beck tilted her head slightly to the side. "Unless you'd rather the back of the squad car and in the inside of a containment cell, I'd suggest you do as he says," she snapped at the older woman.</p>
<p>Mrs. Manwaring stumbled backwards, almost missed her door handle as she made her way back inside. But just before she was completely gone.</p>
<p>"Oh," Mrs. Manwaring halted at the entrance. "Don't forget this." Beck tossed the key chain up at her. She flinched slightly before catching it and shutting the door, the same wide-eyed look on her face.</p>
<p>As soon as she was out of earshot, Hotchner turned to Lieutenant Nellis who was now approaching the porch behind Reid and Beck. "Did you find anything?"</p>
<p>Nellis shook his head. "The perimeter's clear. He's not here."</p>
<p>"Then he's headed for the kids," Reid concluded.</p>
<p>"Ryder," Beck turned to Hotchner at the sound of her name. "Go with Reid to help with the perimeter around the school. Prentiss and Morgan will meet you there," Beck managed to catch the SUV keys he threw to her with ease. "He couldn't have gotten far if he already has them."</p>
<p>Beck nodded, going without argument. Reid was trailing close behind her as they made their way from the porch to the SUV. Beck immediately ran to the driver's door, sparing a small smile to Reid as she passed across the hood to taunt him.</p>
<p>When they climbed in, however, Beck realized something...</p>
<p>"You wouldn't be looking for these, would you?"</p>
<p>Beck turned to her right and found Reid sitting there with a mischevious grin playing at his lips, his hand raised with the SUV keys dangling from off his index finger... taunting her.</p>
<p>Beck's mouth fell ajar, her hands patting her pockets where she had sworn she'd taken put the keys after taking them from Hotchner earlier. "How did you...?" She didn't even bother finishing the question before snatching the keys from his hand and starting up the car. Reid still chuckling as she began to reverse, only to have to slam on the brakes a few moments later when she realized... "Shit."</p>
<p>There was still a squad car parked behind her blocking the way out.</p>
<p>Reid glanced back, seeing the problem as well. "Maybe we could take the squad car instead," he offered just as Beck was turning back to face the front and spotted none other than Mrs. Manwaring peering at them through her window. Oh... that's when a brilliant idea hit her.</p>
<p>"Like hell," she replied before hitting the gear into drive.</p>
<p>"What-" Reid whipped back around to face the front the moment she did. "What are you-" His question died out in his throat the minute his back forcefully hit his chair, Beck having hit the gas and turned the wheel harshly to the right. "Jesus Christ!" Reid shouted as the SUV swerved into the large expanse of the Manwaring yard, Beck turning to the right to get around the tree just so she could send a smug smile towards Hotchner, who was still standing on the porch a few yards away watching the scene play out.</p>
<p>Eventually, Beck was able to manuever the SUV around the tree in the middle of the yard and made it towards the sidewalk. She thought she'd done enough damage, but then she spotted the mail box...</p>
<p>"Hold on," Beck grinned as she flipped on the sirens and lights on the SUVs, her foot slamming into the gas and the wheel turning to the left ever so slightly going in the direction of the mail box. Beck swerved at the last second, but the jolt of of the SUV going off the curb of the sidewalk caused the car to hit the object just enough to knock it at an odd angle. "Sorry..." Beck pretended to grimace as she turned onto the street and sped forward, a wicked grin replacing the grimace as she imagined what Mrs. Manwaring's face looked like right about now.</p>
<p>Then she turned and got a look at Dr. Reid's.</p>
<p>He looked petrified, his hands clutching the seatbelt over his chest as if it was going to keep him place through all of that. His hair was whipped from all the movement and swerving, so not only did he look terrified, but he also looked like he had just gone through a tornados.</p>
<p>Beck couldn't help but laugh.</p>
<p>
  <em>—</em>
</p>
<p>When they arrived at the school, Prentiss and Morgan had already locked it down and were waiting at the front. Beck maneuvered the SUV to stop just in front of where Prentiss stood on the sidewalk.</p>
<p>"Anything?" Reid called out of his rolled down window, Beck leaning forward to see around him.</p>
<p>Prentiss shook her head, "He's not here."</p>
<p>"The kids?" Beck called back.</p>
<p>"They're not here either," Morgan shouted back. "We're checking with witnesses. From what we've gathered Gary picked them up just outside. He was in a late-eighties Oldsmobile... left fifteen minutes ago."</p>
<p>"He couldn't have gotten far," Dr. Reid remarked.</p>
<p>An idea struck Beck. "You did the geographical profile, you know this city inside and out by now, right?" She asked the Doctor. Reid nodded. Beck turned back to the road, hitting drive on the gear and taking off back down the street, leaving Prentiss and Morgan to finish up at the school. "I'm gonna need you to direct me to the nearest main road with the most shops."</p>
<p>"You really think he'd stop somewhere?"</p>
<p>"He knows he can't go back to that house, not without Ervin... it's why he's been so insistent for Ervin to go with him," Beck explained. "So he's going to try and bring that house to him, best place to do that is somewhere crowded with people where he has leverage and can negotiate for what he wants."</p>
<p>"Mrs. Manwaring," Reid deduced. Beck nodded. "Alright, stay on this street then take a left in a quarter mile, you should reach the main road in this part of town from there."</p>
<p>Beck hit the gas.</p>
<p>They'd been driving around the main road for about five minutes before Reid sat up straight in his seat, his hand pointing out the window towards something she couldn't see. "There- right there! The gray-ish car parked at the donut shop up ahead." Beck craned her neck and sure enough, there the car was. Beck turned into the pawn shop parking area across the street and stopped where they were close enough to see inside the donut shop, but far enough to not draw attention to themselves so Gary wouldn't see them and get twitchy.</p>
<p>Reid didn't waste a second, pulling out some binoculars from the compartment in the middle of their seats. Beck leaned back to give him a view of the coffee shop to their left across the street. "See anything?"</p>
<p>Reid paused, looking through the binoculars then lowering them from his eyes. "He's in there. I'll call Hotch."</p>
<p>Beck took the binoculars from Reid to see what he saw, and sure enough, seated near the end of the shop was an older version of the boy she saw from the Manwaring's photo with Erving across the table from Tyler...</p>
<p>Reid was still dialing Hotchner when Beck lowered the binoculars from her face. "Mrs. Manwaring said she had to pick up the <em>kids </em>from school- plural, right?"</p>
<p>"Yeah. Sara and Tyler."</p>
<p>"It's only Tyler in there with him..."</p>
<p>Reid's eyebrows furrowed, but before he could form a coherent reply, his attention was pulled away by Hotchner answering his phone. "Hotch... We got him. He's at a donut shop two miles from the school. Beck and I spotted it while on perimeter." There was a pause. "Uh... we got a visual on Gary and the boy, but I don't see the girl."</p>
<p>
  <em>Knock, knock, knock.</em>
</p>
<p>As if on cue, a little girl appeared on Reid's side of the car just outside of his window. He rolled it down enough for her to speak to them.</p>
<p>"Are you the police?" She asked... she looked mildly terrified, if not just a bit confused.</p>
<p>"Yes," Beck answered her.</p>
<p>"He told me to give this to you." The girl produced a small crumpled piece of paper, handing it to Reid for him to read... he he.</p>
<p>Beck tried to peer over his shoulder to read it, then her blood went cold.</p>
<p>
  <em>If You Come in I'll Kill him.</em>
</p>
<p>"We might have a problem, Hotch."</p>
<p>
  <em>—</em>
</p>
<p>The parking lot outside the donut shop was swarming with SWAT within the hour.</p>
<p>Beck had ushered little Sara Manwaring into the back of the SUV while her and Reid pulled their vests on. She didn't seem to keen to be alone while all of these police officers started to crowd the parking lot, so Beck kept her door open while she tightened the straps on her Kevlar.</p>
<p>"Are you a police officer?" Sara asked her.</p>
<p>Beck peered up her through her bangs and offered her a smile. "Even better. I'm an FBI agent."</p>
<p>Sara's eyes twinkled. "Girls can be in the FBI?"</p>
<p>"Sure can," she replied. "Did someone tell you differently?"</p>
<p>The little girl frowned. "My mom."</p>
<p>"Your foster mom?" Beck prompted.</p>
<p>Sara nodded. "She said a woman's place is at home serving the Lord while the men bring home the bread. I told her I wanted to be a firefighter and then she..." She trailed off, her eyes dropping to her lap, similar in the way Ervin's had back in the interview room.</p>
<p>"And then she what, Sara?" She remained silent, almost as if she were terrified to say anything. Her bottom lip trembled, her eyes welling with tears. Beck wasn't really sure what to do, she's never had to deal with kids that she wasn't related to. She turned back to Reid for help, but he just looked back to Sara as if telling her to comfort her as if she had a clue how.</p>
<p>Eventually, Beck gave in and tried her best.</p>
<p>She took a step forward so she could lean down to her level. She took a note out of Carrie's book and gently set her hand on Sara's in her lap. "Did she make it go dark, Sara?" The tears were falling full-fledged when the little girl glanced up at her and nodded slightly. "Sara, you have to know... what the Manwarings did to you is not your fault. They're bad people who deserve to go to jail."</p>
<p>Sara sniffled. "Is Gary going to kill them?"</p>
<p>Beck blinked in surprise. Not a question she'd been expecting. "No. No, Sara, Gary's going to jail... and hopefully, so will the Manwarings."</p>
<p>"Is Gary going to kill Tyler?"</p>
<p>Beck was kind of speechless on how to answer that until Reid came to the rescue. "We're going to make sure that doesn't happen. But until then, we're going to need you to stay here and be reallly quiet until we get Tyler out of there, alright? Can you do that, Sara?" He asked her. Beck could feel him standing right behind her.</p>
<p>Sara nodded. "Okay."</p>
<p>"Good. Good," he smiled. "Agent Ryder and I are going to get him and bring him back here now, okay? We'll be right back." And with that, Beck stood up and away from the door. Reid closing it on Sara, who's eyes were now glued to the front window towards the donut shop where Gary and her brother were. "You did good," Reid remarked as they started their trek away from the SUV towards the front lines where Hotchner was just arriving with Prentiss and Morgan, but Beck was just focused on the little boy she could just make out inside the shop.</p>
<p>"That girl's gone through enough shit in her life," Beck turned to meet his eyes. "I don't want her to be traumatized even more by losing that kid."</p>
<p>"Hotch is going to try and speak to Gary, negotiate with him to try and let Tyler go," Reid tried to reassure her. "Hotch's good at negotiation, you've just gotta trust him." Beck wanted to scoff. <em>Right... Trust Aaron Hotchner. What a joke.</em></p>
<p>"Guys," Hotchner stated as he came rushing over, his vest barely tightened on as he approached. "Guys, fall back, I don't want him feeling boxed in."</p>
<p>"I got sharp shooters lining up," Lieutenant Nellis stated as Hotchner gestured towards Ried who wordlessly handed him the note Sara had given them from Gary.</p>
<p>Hotchner frowned when he read the same words they had. "Tell them to keep their safeties on, I want to talk to him first."</p>
<p>Beck shook her head from on the other side of Reid, who handed Hotchner his binoculars to peer through the donut shop windows. She silently prayed that Strauss was wrong and that he was good at his job... if he wasn't, it might've benefited her, but for the time being the last thing she wanted to see him do was fail, especially when the life of a little boy was in his hands and the emotional fate of a little girl was on the line.</p>
<p>"Hotch," JJ approached, phone in hand. "Got the clerk."</p>
<p>Hotchner dropped the binoculars onto the squad car hood as he took the phone from her and immediately put it to his ear. "The guy sitting at the table, I'd like to speak to him, please."</p>
<p>Beck snatched up the binoculars from where Hotchner left them and peered up at the shop. She watched as Gary gestured for Tyler to get up, the pair of them walking across the shop until they were standing just beside the counter. Gary grabbing the phone from the clerk and meticulously placing Tyler in front of him almost as though he were a human shield... Fucking coward.</p>
<p>Beck watched as Gary put the phone to his ear. He must've asked the generic 'who's this?' question, because without missing a beat, Hotchner responded, "I'm the only thing standing between you and a bullet." There was a pause before Hotchner continued, "...And never see Ervin again? He told us what the Manwarings did to you in that house... They're the objects of your anger Gary, not that little boy in there."</p>
<p>A part of Beck silently hoped this would be the moment they would trade Mrs. Manwaring for Tyler and give Gary what he wanted, but, of course, Hotchner had morals and persisted with just trying to talk Gary down with little to no leverage except for him seeing Ervin again- which, she doubted would happen even if he surrendered.</p>
<p>"No, it's not- it's <em>not</em>, Gary," Hotchner insisted to whatever Gary was saying on the other line. "And deep down, I think you know that he still has a chance. He doesn't have to be you..." There was a long pregnant pause. Beck could see through the binoculars that Gary had said something before putting the phone down. She held her breath, waiting for the gun to come out or for him to just shoot Tyler because for some reason whatever Hotchner said pissed him off... but that gunshot never came.</p>
<p>"What is it? What'd he say?" Nellis asked. No one answered.</p>
<p>Because coming out of the front door of the donut shop- unharmed- was Tyler.</p>
<p>Beck stood straighter, anxiously watching as Morgan rushed forward and yanked him away, ushering him over to where Prentiss stood off to the side with a set of armored SWAT officers.</p>
<p>"Ryder," Hotchner grabbed her attention. "Go. Don't break this one's nose." Beck almost glared at the quip, but decided she had better things to do as she unholstered her pistol and started jogging over to the side of the donut shop entrance, waiting for Gary's next move. He let his leverage go, it was only a matter of time before he tried to shoot his way out.</p>
<p>But once again, those gunshots never came.</p>
<p>Instead, a few minutes after letting Tyler free, Gary came walking out of the donut shop... unarmed.</p>
<p>"Gary!" Morgan shouted as he moved in, gun raised. Beck followed his lead from the opposite side. "Put your hands up where I can see them. Don't move!"</p>
<p>"Get down!" Beck shouted at him, her gun unwavering as she aimed it directly towards his head. If he even dared to get out of line, she wouldn't break his nose... she'd put a bullet through it. Gary seemed to sense her lack of worry for using force to get what she wanted, because he did as he was told and got down, hands raised. "On your knees!" She instructed. He listened.</p>
<p>An armored SWAT officer came up behind him. "Interlace your fingers behind your head!" He shouted at Gary as more people moved in. Once again, Gary did as instructed without even a trace of smugness. Maybe this was it... This was him giving up. But Beck didn't let up, her glare boring into his skull as the officer patted him down, turning him inside out to make sure he wasn't armed. Beck was shocked when the officer didn't find anything. "Give me this hand." Swiftly, the officer pulled his wrists behind his back to zip-tie his wrists. "Get on your feet," he instructed. Gary did so, his eyes finding Hotchner's as he approached from behind Beck.</p>
<p>It didn't take long before his eyes met hers in the process. Her glare darkened. "Walk," she instructed, gestured her gun to where the two officers were trying to push him towards. He relented and did as told with not even so much as a scoff or a glare or even a spared glance over his shoulder. He just looked limp and worn out as he was led away...</p>
<p>Damn, Ried was right. Hotchner was good at negotiation.</p>
<p>Lieutenant Nellis was thinking the same thing as he turned to Hotchner and said, "I don't know what you did, but nice work."</p>
<p>Hotchner hesitated. "Thanks." He didn't sound too enthusiastic.</p>
<p>Beck glanced at him as she put her pistol away behind her back to find him staring after Gary being taken away, his eyebrows furrowed deeper than usual. He was as suspicious as she was, it seemed. Something happened on the phone call, though, Beck knew that for sure. She just wondered if it would come back to bite them in the ass.</p>
<p>After the police cleared out, SWAT didn't waste time getting Gary out of there. Hotchner and Nellis following the squad car he was in not long after they'd left back to the precinct. And a few minutes after that, the Press arrived. JJ didn't waste a second moving in to try and set the record straight about what happened and deliver her statement on behalf of the team. Reid was overviewing witness recounts around the shop, and Beck was still standing in the parking lot, staring up at the donut shop, stunned at how quickly that hostage situation dissipated. She'd worked hostage negotiation before, granted, the CTU never really cared about casualties if it meant capturing the assailant so there wasn't too much on the line, but in all her time, she'd never seen it go by so fast... Why was Gary so willing to give up? What was his angle?</p>
<p>Beck eventually gave up trying to piece it together from the parking lot and tried her luck with Prentiss and Morgan who were in charge of getting Tyler and Sara somewhere safe. But as Beck approached, she could see the frowns on both agents' faces.</p>
<p>"What is it?" She immediately asked as she approached, she could see Tyler and Sara in the SUV's backseat. "You taking them to social services?"</p>
<p>"No," Morgan huffed. "They won't even intervene until they hold a full investigation."</p>
<p>"You're kidding," Beck scoffed.</p>
<p>Prentiss shook her head. "I wish we were. There's nothing we can do now."</p>
<p>"Arrest the Manwarings based on our own findings," Beck offered. "Say they're accessories to murder. That could work."</p>
<p>"It wouldn't..." Morgan replied. "That's not how it works, kid."</p>
<p>"Wha-" she cut herself off. "You can't seriously take them back there. After all we've heard about what they've gone through- what they continue to go through! Social services didn't give a damn about Elizabeth Laybourne and they sure as hell aren't going to give a damn about them!"</p>
<p>Morgan turned to fully face her, his hands coming up in defense. "It's out of our hands," he told her, his voice laced with both exasperation and reluctance. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do."</p>
<p>No. Beck wasn't buying it.</p>
<p>"I'm taking this to Hotchner." She swiftly turned on her heel, away from Morgan and Prentiss. She was headed towards the SUV her and Reid had come in when she felt into her pockets and realized the keys weren't there... Reid...</p>
<p>She found him headed toward the donut shop and jogged over. "Reid," she called to him. "I need the keys."</p>
<p>He attempted to play dumb, scrunching his face up in an exaggerated frown, feigning confusion as he asked, "Keys? What keys?"</p>
<p>"I'm serious, Reid," Beck insisted. "I need to get back to the precinct to talk to Hotch."</p>
<p>"About the case?" he prompted as he reached into his back pocket to produce the keys.</p>
<p>"Something like that." She made a move to reach for the keys in his hand, but he yanked them away out of her reach. She eyed him.</p>
<p>"Wait, what am I supposed to do? You were my ride here," he exclaimed.</p>
<p>"I don't know, Reid. Catch a ride with JJ. Grab a donut while you're at it- just <em>give me the keys,</em>" she groaned.</p>
<p>Reid's frown morphed into a beaming smile, the keys still dangling from his fingers. "Say the magic word."</p>
<p>Beck made a face that showed him just how unamused she was by his antics. "I'm gonna drop kick you. Dr. Reid, give me the keys..." He raised an expectant eyebrow at her, jingling the keys in his hand once more until she gave in with a sigh. "...please."</p>
<p>Reid beamed at her expense, lowering his hand just enough so she could quickly snatch the keys away before he tried anything else. She glared at him, but his smile only grew as she turned her back and started off towards the SUV.</p>
<p>"No 'thank you'?" She heard him shout after her.</p>
<p>She raised her arm, dangling the keys around the middle finger as she walked away.</p>
<p>
  <em>—</em>
</p>
<p>When she got to the precinct, Beck noticed just how light everyone was. Like they were no longer plagued by two serial killers and everything was back to normal. Officers were chatting on the edges of desks, laughing at the coffee pots, cracking jokes near the printers. Beck couldn't help but be jealous. They got to forget like everyone else would eventually, but she'd be plagued with those images in her brain forever... she always was.</p>
<p>She pushed that anger aside and focused on her other form of anger... because she was approaching Hotchner and Nellis and needed an output to direct her newfound anger towards.</p>
<p>"Hotchner."</p>
<p>He turned to her. "Ryder," he greeted in return.</p>
<p>"The Manwarings- we can't arrest them?" Beck asked.</p>
<p>Hotchner dropped his gaze to the floor. "I know you're upset-"</p>
<p>"You've <em>got</em> to be kidding me," she cut him off, throwing her head back, already knowing what he was going to tell her. "Do not tell me there's nothing we can do to keep those kids from going back into that house. You know what they've done. We can't just let the Manwarings get away with this!"</p>
<p>"There will be a full investigation by the DSS-"</p>
<p>"What are they going to do, huh? Ignore them just like they did Elizabeth Laybourne's case? Look how <em>that </em>turned out."</p>
<p>Hotchner tilted his head slightly as if she'd just told him something of importance. Maybe she had and she just hadn't realized it yet. Or... he was profiling her and got something from her anger.</p>
<p>Sure enough... "What's this about?"</p>
<p>"What do you mean 'what's this about'? This is about the fact that Mr and Mrs. Manwaring belong behind prison bars, not with welfare checks bouncing into their banking account while they abuse those kids. She needs to pay!"</p>
<p>"You're taking your anger out on her... just like Ervin and Gary-"</p>
<p>"Do not-!" She cut herself off. Seething, she glared up at him, pointing her finger into his chest as she whispered beneath her breath, "Do <em>not </em>compare me to them. I'm not the killer here. Hell, I'm not even the one who pushed Gary to slit those kids' throats."</p>
<p>There it was.</p>
<p>Hotchner paused momentarily as he put the pieces together in his head and came to his conclusion. "This is about the Press release."</p>
<p>"This is about you being a hypocrite," she bit back. "Telling me to trust people then completely disregarding my real concerns just to get you your single clue."</p>
<p>"Look where that clue got us, Ryder. More kids would've died had we not released what we knew to the Press."</p>
<p>"You could have <em>waited</em>," Beck persisted. "I understand the balance between needs of the many outweighing needs of the few and all that bullshit, but there's a difference between dying blood and dying painlessly. Those kids-"</p>
<p>"Those kids were dead either way."</p>
<p>It felt like the breath was knocked out of her lungs at just his single sentence. They were dead either way... he didn't care how, he just cared enough to catch the Unsub. That was his job, catching the bad guys... Her job was saving people... that was always her job. It was why she did any of this shit. She saved lives and killed people in the process. Not catch bad guys and get people killed in the process... That was what Bruno Hawks did.</p>
<p>Beck gasped.</p>
<p>That was what Bruno Hawks did...</p>
<p>She was snapped from her thoughts when Hotchner's phone suddenly rang. He answered. "Yeah, Reid?" There was a pause and Beck hadn't really been paying attention to what the call was about until Hotchner's eyebrows furrowed deeper. "You sure?" This sounded urgent and not it had her attention.</p>
<p>"What?" She prompted.</p>
<p>Hotchner glanced at her before hitting the speaker button on his phone and holding it between them. "The clerk said Gary had a gun," he explained to her.</p>
<p>"We turned him inside out, we found nothing," Beck insisted.</p>
<p>"<em>I guess it's probably here somewhere,</em>" Reid figured, but he sounded unsure. "<em>A gun doesn't just walk away..."</em></p>
<p>Beck looked up just as Hotchner did, their eyes met and immediately their thoughts went to one place...</p>
<p>"But kids do," Beck remarked. "What did Gary say to you on that call?" She prompted Hotchner.</p>
<p>He didn't answer her.</p>
<p>"Call Morgan and Prentiss, tell them to check Tyler's belongings for the weapon," he instructed her before walking off.</p>
<p>Beck didn't bother to argue with him as she pulled out her phone to dial Morgan's number. He answered on the second ring.</p>
<p>"<em>Ryder, what's up?</em>"</p>
<p>"Did you already drop off Tyler and Sara at the Manwarings?" she asked.</p>
<p>There was a heavy sigh on the other line that gave her about as much information that she needed to know. "<em>We just dropped them off. We're leavin'.</em>"</p>
<p>"Before they left- did you check their belongings- their backpacks? Their pockets? Anything?"</p>
<p>"<em>The backpacks?</em>" He asked, confused. Beck almost groaned. Shit. Tyler definitely had the gun... The gun Gary gave to him to finish what he couldn't. "<em>No. Why? Why would we search the back-</em>"</p>
<p>
  <em>BANG BANG BANG</em>
</p>
<p>Beck winced, pushing the phone from her ear as the gunshots caught her off guard in the background of the call.</p>
<p>"Morgan?" She called back into the receiver. "Morgan?! Prentiss?!" No response. Beck shut her phone and started jogging in the direction Hotchner had left to. "<em>Shit</em>!"</p>
<p>
  <em>—</em>
</p>
<p>When Beck and Hotchner arrived to the Manwaring house, it was surrounded by police. Just like the donut shop had been.</p>
<p>Beck rushed towards the porch, her boots trekking over the tire marks she'd driven through her lawn earlier in the day as she made her way through the bushes and jumped onto the porch rather than bother with the stairs. Officers were filing in and out, bags of evidence in their hands as they went.</p>
<p>No one had filled Beck or Hotchner in on what had happened following the shots. All she knew was that shots had been fired and there wasn't an ambulance outside, which only painted a picture that she was scared to see the final results of.</p>
<p>She wasn't sure what she was walking into when she reached the threshold of the house, but she stepped through either way. Inside was a mess, but the room with the most traffic and the most yellow evidence markers was the one to the right of her... the chimney with all the pictures on it Mrs. Manwaring had led them to.</p>
<p>It had been untouched and pristine last time she'd seen it. But now, it was riddled with bullets... but no blood.</p>
<p>"Hey," Beck called to Lieutenant Nellis as he passed by with a group of officers still gathering photos of the scene. He turned to her expectantly. "Where are the kids?"</p>
<p>"They're outside in the squad cars. Your guys were just getting ready to send them off to social services while we process the parents," he explained.</p>
<p>Beck raised her eyebrows. "<em>Both</em> of them?" They were alive?</p>
<p>Nellis nodded. "Yeah. I bet if you make it outside, you could still catch them before they're put into the squad cars."</p>
<p>Beck nearly sprinted back out to the porch. Her eyes scanned the area for what she was looking for, and sure enough, being escorted across the lawn with the perpetual scowl on her face and a nice pair of handcuffs to match, was Mrs. Manwaring being escorted to the police car. Beck grinned, watching her head nearly missing the top of the car as she was shoved into the back. Her eyes met hers for a split second before the door shut on her face and Beck felt at peace knowing the scowl would spend the rest of it's meaningless life in prison.</p>
<p>Off to the side, Beck finally noticed Tyler, Sara and a few other kids she'd seen in the photos being taken towards other cars. Most of them looked ecstatic, but Beck noticed the look on Tyler's face... scared... shaken. She realized now he was the one to fire off those shots, but she was shocked to piece it together that he hadn't chosen to hurt Mrs. Manwaring with the gun Gary gave him, like Gary had intended him to. Instead, he just shot at all those happy photos of them. Because he wasn't Gary... or Ervin.</p>
<p>Sure, he'd grown up in this house and had been abused, just like they had been, but Gary and Ervin were two remorseless killers who just needed the right tragic backstory and twisted reasoning to justify what they did and who they were. But Tyler's choice just went to prove that just because of what other people put you through, it does not determine who you are as a person. Tyler was good... something Gary and Ervin never were.</p>
<p>The kid was strong. But, like JJ had said to her about Carrie, he shouldn't have to be.</p>
<p>Beck sometimes wished she didn't have to be.</p>
<p>
  <em>—</em>
</p>
<p>After wrapping up that loose end, the team headed back to DC.</p>
<p>Beck slept through the plane ride once again and hadn't really talked much to anyone else after what had happened at the precinct. When the plane landed, she spared a few waves and 'meet you back at the office' prior to her speeding off on her bike.</p>
<p>She got to the BAU at a record time and once again, the place was pretty barren, seeing as it was coming up on ten at night. Beck was all too happy to find her place at the desk she'd been assigned and drop her go-bag down at her feet, flopping into the spinning chair haphazardly knowing she was in for a night seeing as she hadn't gotten the chance to even think up what she was going to put in her report to either Hotchner nor her one for Strauss either.</p>
<p>Speaking of Strauss...</p>
<p>Beck checked her phone... eight missed calls in the past week.</p>
<p>She was just going to keep going straight to voicemail because the last thing Beck wanted to do was deal with her while she was dealing with Hotchner. Two of them at the same time... God, her patience wouldn't be able to handle it, so she'd just stick to one. Hotchner was enough on her hands.</p>
<p>Which was why after she'd finished up her report for him on the case, she sat at her desk staring at the blank document entry on her computer... Maybe Strauss would accept just a sentence long explanation of his behavior as 'dickheaded.' ...Thinking about it now, she'd probably get shit for it and the last thing she needed was another headache, so she just kept staring at the blank document, unsure of where to even start.</p>
<p>Last time she'd finished a case, Hotchner had said he wanted to take her on as member of the team, but revealed his knowledge of her past with that lucky number a hundred and fifty-two... then he told her trust others while simultaneously betraying that trust by releasing details to the Press and causing the slaughter of two children...</p>
<p>
  <em>"Those kids were dead either way."</em>
</p>
<p>Those were his words.</p>
<p>Words that reminded her of someone else...</p>
<p>
  <em>"I'm not Bruno Hawks..."</em>
</p>
<p>Hotchner had reiterated to her after their first official case together, but... then she had to draw those parallels and that's when she finally started to understand why Strauss wanted him gone. That Press release. It may have been minor to the rest of the team because it got them closer to their goal, but all Beck thought of when she thought of what that Press release did was the image of two children with their throats slashed lying lifeless in a pool of their own blood... an image that would never leave her mind no matter how hard she would try. And in her mind, Hotchner did that... to get himself closer to the Unsubs.</p>
<p>Hawks did that once too. When he'd order her to go through people... entire families... for the sake of a mission. She told Hotchner a painless death was better than a painful one because that's what she'd used to do with the CTU... she'd use Arsenic, inject it into the veins of children, women, mothers, fathers, elderly... Anyone Hawks considered a threat, he ordered her to take them out. Quickly, efficiently. And only she could do it, because if it wasn't her Sanchez, Summers, Spence, or Hopkins would shoot them point blank, snap their neck, or... or slit their throats. But Beck was the only one with knowledge of human anatomy and how to properly dose people in order to make it painless. She was their Angel of Death, just like Ervin was Gary's...</p>
<p>And Hawks exploited that the way Gary did Ervin...</p>
<p>A hundred and fifty-two...</p>
<p>That had been how many children Beck had killed in her time with the CTU. Ages ranging from two to nineteen. She'd even killed someone around her age within her first year of field work. And each time, the image of their lifeless bodies was engrained in her head and she'd still never forget them. She couldn't.</p>
<p>
  <em>Suddenly, she was nineteen year old girl again... her head hanging as she sit on all fours above a pile of her own vomit.. whatever she'd had for breakfast now regurgitated and lying between her two splayed out hands on the asphalt in front of her.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Beck was coughing and spluttering, gasping for air as she tried to hear her own sobs through the ringing in her ears.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Ryder... Ryder!"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Beck peered through the wet strands of her hair. There was so much welled up tears in her eyes, it was hard to make out the image of the person beside her. She panicked and shoved them away, forcefully backing herself up into the brick wall behind her. She winced when her head hit the surface, blinking away enough tears to see it was just Olivia Hopkins.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"It's just me," she said in a soft voice, her hands raised as she knelt down to her level. "It's just me... Are you alright?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"'M fine," Beck muttered, wiping remaining vomit from the side of her mouth with the back of her hand.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Olivia didn't look like she believed her, but was smart enough not to push her on it after what they'd both just gone through on Beck's first away mission. "The plane's leaving soon... Hawks wouldn't want us to be late.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>She almost told her that Hawks could go fuck himself if he thought she was getting back on that plane after what he had just had her do, but she bit her tongue. And it was a good thing too, because as if on cue, Hawks came walking into the alleyway behind their temporary Base of Operations for that mission.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He turned to Olivia. "The others are prepping to leave. You should go with them, Hopkins," he told her, his voice cold and unfeeling.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"But, sir, I can't leave her like this-" she attempted to argue, only for him to cut her off. "That wasn't a question, Agent."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Olivia spared a glance back to Beck who only clenched her jaw and dropped her eyes down to her lap in response. "Yes, sir..." And with that, Olivia left Beck and Hawks alone.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Hawks approached her still crumpled on the floor. He glanced to the side of her and spotted why she was there... the vomit. "First kill jitters, huh?" He asked. She almost blanched at how nonchalant he said it. "Happens to the best of us, kiddo. Come on- up." He reached down to offer her a hand. She took it and let him hoist her to her feet. "You're fine." He told her, not in a reassuring tone, but almost as if he were telling her what she felt.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"They..." Beck's voice broke. "They were just kids..."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"You're still worried about those street kids, huh?" He asked, slapping a hand onto her shoulder as if they were discussing baseball, boxing, golfing, hunting- literally anything other than murder. "Becca, honey, those kids would've grown up to be just as bad as the rest of the terrorists in their village. You did them and your country a favor by taking them out-" Beck cringed at his wording.</em>
</p>
<p><em>"Come on, kid. You're </em>strong. <em>You've always been strong," he smiled at her as he turned her body to face him, both hands on her shoulders as he brought her chin up to look him in the face. "This is the job. This is how we do it... You've got heart, kiddo. You've just gotta put it to the side and focus on one goal."</em></p>
<p>
  <em>"What's that?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Protecting your country."</em>
</p>
<p>Back in the present, Beck shook away that dark memory from her first field mission. Her eyes refocusing on the blinking line beckoning her to fucking hurry up and type something before the team got back. And for the first time, she actually had something to say.</p>
<p>
  <em>"This is the job. This is how we do it... Focus on one goal"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"What's that?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Protecting your country."</em>
</p>
<p>Hawks.</p>
<p>
  <em>"He saw something in you that was worth having here. I think I know what that is... Determination. You just need a goal to reach."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"And what goal might that be?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Helping catch people like Bruno Hawks."</em>
</p>
<p>Hotchner.</p>
<p>Beck drew in a deep breath and started to type.</p>
<p>
  <em>Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>In my second case with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, Agent Hotchner displayed a very unique way of handling situations in which the lives of the many outweigh the lives of the few. He displayed this flaw in his morals and decision making when he willingly chose to release the details of an attempted murder victim's survival in hopes of getting the Unsubs to reveal themselves or give the team a clue in order to find them. They were correct in assuming that the Unsubs would not only strike again, but also left a clue that led to these new victims but did not lead to a clue that was able to help. Not only did Hotchner's choice to release details to the Press cost the lives of another innocent family, but it also pushed one of the Unsubs to going as far as slitting the throats of two young children in their homes because of the anger of their failure to kill the previous victim the news had notified them of thanks to Agent Hotchner. I had previously voiced my concern only to be ignored and disregarded. Hotchner's morals are skewed towards one common goal: catching Unsubs, when in reality, it should be saving potential victims. This flaw is not only inhibiting but potentially dangerous to more people in the future.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Entry date- 10/20/07</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Agent Rebecca Ryder.</em>
</p>
<p>Beck sat back in her chair, staring at the long entry she'd just typed up... Not to bad for someone who had always hated writing during her studying.</p>
<p>Carefully, she saved the entry and tucked it into a file in the crevices of her hard drive that she quickly unplugged from her computer before anyone else could see it and get curious... As if being a double agent in a team full of psychological profilers wasn't hard enough.</p>
<p>After unplugging the drive, she stared down at in her hand. The initials of '<em>AH</em>' staring back at her and for a split second she considered plugging it back in and deleting everything to just revise it to 'He was a dick, as usual,' but then... she had to remember her real concerns with both Hotchner and Hawks. They were too similar to ignore and the last thing Beck wanted was for the unspilled blood of more kids to be on her hands. A hundred and fifty-two was enough for one lifetime, she didn't need to raise that number any higher.</p>
<p>
  <em>"I'm not Bruno Hawks."</em>
</p>
<p>On the contrary, Aaron Hotchner. You're exactly like Bruno Hawks...</p>
<p>Beck clutched the drive in her hand and slipped it into her pocket. She'd taken her written report from the first case and slung her go-bag over her shoulder, ready to head out before stopping momentarily in the space between her and Dr. Reid's desk. She noticed how neat it was, save for the cluster of sticky-notes, maps, charts, and solved crossword puzzles there were taped to the border between he and Prentiss's desks. His entire personality was on display on his desk... he was so open with it, so transparent. She couldn't but think back to their conversation from before and how frustrated he was when it come to how closed off she was and how little he knew about her.</p>
<p>Hotchner's voice replayed in her head once again, <em>"The less the team knows about you, the more inclined they are to dig to find out. It's not because they want to use what they know about you against you, but because they just want to know you're someone they can trust."</em></p>
<p>Trust... Beck trusted Olivia Hopkins even when Hawks was being a dick... maybe Dr. Spencer Reid she could trust... but, not with everything of course.</p>
<p>She paused momentarily at his desk, ripping a blue sticky-note and a red pen, jotting something down and sticking it onto the little border in a section unoccupied by only yellow and pink sticky-notes she noticed that were only reserved for quotes by dead philosophers and math equations she couldn't even begin to try and figure out. To anyone else, it would just look like another note on the wall, but she knew he'd find it plastered there either when he got back in a little bit or when he came to his desk in the morning.</p>
<p>
  <em>Paris the Bonsai: my Dad had a plane he had named Hermes. After the crash, I developed an obsession with Greek mythology to try and process my fears and emotions... I named the tree Paris because my bike's already named Hades.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>- Beck.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi, guys! I'm now on AO3 cross-posting from FFN under the same username. Decided I loved this story way too much to only let it stay on one site, so please enjoy this. If I fuck up with posting... that's because I have no clue how to use this site, so bare with me ;)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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